LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF 
CALIFORNIA 


University  of  California  •  Berkeley 


•V 


NARRATIVE 


LIFE 


FREDERICK   DOUGLASS, 


AMERICAN    SLAVE. 


WRITTEN    BY    HIMSELF. 


BOSTON: 

PUBLISHED  AT  THE  ANTI-SLAVERY  OFFICE, 

NO.  25  CORNHILL. 

1847. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1845, 

BY  FREDERICK  DOUGLASS, 
i  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  Massachusetts. 


PREFACE. 


IN  the  month  of  August,  1841, 1  attended  an  anti- 
slavery  convention  in  Nantucket,  at  which  it  was  my 
happiness  to  become  acquainted  with  FREDERICK  DOUG- 
LASS, the  writer  of  the  following  Narrative.  He  was  a 
stranger  to  nearly  every  member  of  that  body ;  but, 
having  recently  made  his  escape  from  the  southern 
prison-house  of  bondage,  and  feeling  his  curiosity  ex- 
cited to  ascertain  the  principles  and  measures  of  the 
abolitionists,  —  of  whom  he  had  heard  a  somewhat 
vague  description  while  he  was  a  slave,  —  he  was  in- 
duced to  give  his  attendance,  on  the  occasion  alluded 
to,  though  at  that  time  a  resident  in  New  Bedford. 

Fortunate,  most  fortunate  occurrence  !  —  fortunate 
for  the  millions  of  his  manacled  brethren,  yet  panting 
for  deliverance  from  their  awful  thraldom  !  — fortunate 
for  the  cause  of  negro  emancipation,  and  of  universal 
liberty  !  —  fortunate  for  the  land  of  his  birth,  which  he 
has  already  done  so  much  to  save  and  bless  !  —  fortu- 
nate for  a  large  circle  of  friends  and  acquaintances, 
whose  sympathy  and  affection  he  has  strongly  secured 
by  the  many  sufferings  he  has  endured,  by  his  virtuous 
traits  of  character,  by  his  ever-abiding  remembrance 
of  those  who  are  in  bondsr  as  being  bound  with  them  ! 
—  fortunate  for  the  multitudes,  in  various  parts  of  our 
republic,  whose  minds  he  has  enlightened  on  the  sub- 
ject of  slavery,  and  who  have  been  melted  to  tears  by 
his  pathos,  or  roused  to  virtuous  indignation  by  his  stir- 
ring eloquence  against  the  enslavers  of  men  !  —  fortu- 
tunate  for  himself,  as  it  at  once  brought  him  into  the 


897 


IV  PREFACE. 

field  of  public  usefulness,  "  gave  the  world  assurance 
of  a  MAN,"  quickened  the  slumbering  energies  of  his 
soul,  and  consecrated  him  to  the  great  work  of  break- 
ing the  rod  of  the  oppressor,  and  letting  the  oppressed 
go  free  ! 

I  shall  never  forget  his  first  speech  at  the  convention 

—  the  extraordinary  emotion   it   excited   in   my  own 
mind  —  the   powerful   impression   it  created   upon   a 
crowded  auditory,  completely  taken  by  surprise  —  the 
applause  which  followed  from  the  beginning  to  the  end 
of  his  felicitous  remarks.     I  think  I  never  hated  slavery 
so  intensely  as  at  that  moment ;  certainly,  my  percep- 
tion of  the  enormous  outrage  which  is  inflicted  by  it,  on 
the  godlike  nature  of  its  victims,  was  rendered  far  more 
clear  than  ever.     There  stood  one,  in  physical  propor- 
tion and  stature  commanding  and  exact  —  in  intellect 
richly  endowed  —  in  natural  eloquence  a  prodigy  —  in 
soul  manifestly  "  created  but  a  little  lower  than  the 
angels  "  —  yet  a  slave,  ay,  a  fugitive  slave,  —  trembling 
for   his   safety,  hardly  daring  to  believe  that  on  the 
American  soil,  a  single  white  person  could  be  found 
who  would  befriend  him  at  all  hazards,  for  the  love  of 
God  and  humanity  !     Capable  of  high  attainments  as 
an  intellectual  and  moral  being  —  needing  nothing  but 
a  comparatively  small  amount  of  cultivation  to  make 
him  an  ornament  to  society  and  a  blessing  to  his  race 

—  by  the  law  of  the  land,  by  the  voice  of  the  people, 
by  the  terms  of  the  slave  code,  he  was  only  a  piece  of 
property,  a  beast  of  burden,  a  chattel  personal,  never- 
theless ! 

A  beloved  friend  from  New  Bedford  prevailed  on 
Mr.  DOUGLASS  to  address  the  convention.  He  came 
forward  to  the  platform  with  a  hesitancy  and  embar- 
rassment, necessarily  the  attendants  of  a  sensitive  mind 
in  such  a  novel  position.  After  apologizing  for  his 
ignorance,  and  reminding  the  audience  that  slavery 
was  a  poor  school  for  the  human  intellect  and  heart, 


PREFACE,  V 

he  proceeded  to  narrate  some  of  the  facts  in  his  own 
history  as  a  slave,  and  in  the  course  of  his  speech  gave 
utterance  to  many  noble  thoughts  and  thrilling  reflec' 
tions.  As  soon  as  he  had  taken  his  seat,  filled  with 
hope  and  admiration,  I  rose,  and  declared  that  PATRICK 
HENRY,  of  revolutionary  fame,  never  made  a  speech 
more  eloquent  in  the  cause  of  liberty,  than  the  one  we 
had  just  listened  to  from  the  lips  of  that  hunted  fugi- 
tive. So  I  believed  at  that  time  —  such  is  my  belief 
now.  I  reminded  the  audience  of  the  peril  which  sur- 
rounded this  self-emancipated  young  man  at  the  North, 
—  even  in  Massachusetts,  on  the  soil  of  the  Pilgrim 
Fathers,  among  the  descendants  of  revolutionary  sires ; 
and  I  appealed  to  them,  whether  they  would  ever  allow 
him  to  be  carried  back  into  slavery,  —  law  or  no  law, 
constitution  or  no  constitution.  The  response  was 
unanimous  and  in  thunder-tones  —  "  NO  !  "  "  Will 
you  succor  and  protect  him  as  a  brother-man  —  a  resi- 
dent of  the  old  Bay  State  ?  "  "  YES  !  "  -shouted  the 
whole  mass,  with  an  energy  so  startling,  that  the  ruth- 
less tyrants  south  of  Mason  and  Dixon's  line  might 
almost  have  heard  the  mighty  burst  of  feeling,  and 
recognized  it  as  the  pledge  of  an  invincible  determina- 
tion, on  the  part  of  those  who  gave  it,  never  to  betray 
him  that  wanders,  but  to  hide  the  outcast,  and  firmly  to 
abide  the  consequences. 

It  was  at  once  deeply  impressed  upon  my  mind,  that, 
if  Mr.  DOUGLASS  could  be  persuaded  to  consecrate  his 
time  and  talents  to  the  promotion  of  the  anti-slavery 
enterprise,  a  powerful  impetus  would  be  given  to  it, 
and  a  stunning  blow  at  the  same  time  inflicted  on 
northern  prejudice  against  a  colored  complexion.  I 
therefore  endeavored  to  instil  hope  and  courage  into 
his  mind,  in  order  that  he  might  dare  to  engage  in  a 
vocation  so  anomalous  and  responsible  for  a  person  in 
his  situation;  and  I  was  seconded  in  this  effort  by 
warm-hearted  friends,  especially  by  the  late  General 


Vl  PREFACE. 

Agent  of  the  Massachusetts  Anti-Slavery  Society,  Mr, 
JOHN  A.  COLLINS,  whose  judgment  in  this  instance  en- 
tirely coincided  with  my  own.  At  first,  he  could  give 
no  encouragement ;  with  unfeigned  diffidence,  he  ex- 
pressed his  conviction  that  he  was  not  adequate  to  the 
performance  of  so  great  a  task  ;  the  path  marked  out 
was  wholly  an  untrodden  one  ;  he  was  sincerely  ap- 
prehensive that  he  should  do  more  harm  than  good. 
After  much  deliberation,  however,  he  consented  to 
make  a  trial ;  and  ever  since  that  period,  he  has  acted 
as  a  lecturing  agent,  under  the  auspices  either  of  the 
American  or  the  Massachusetts  Anti-Slavery  Society. 
In  labors  he  has  been  most  abundant ;  and  his  success 
in  combating  prejudice,  in  gaining  proselytes,  in  agi- 
tating the  public  mind,  has  far  surpassed  the  most  san- 
guine expectations  that  were  raised  at  the  commence- 
ment of  his  brilliant  career.  He  has  borne  himself 
with  gentleness  and  meekness,  yet  with  true  manliness 
of  character.  As  a  public  speaker,  he  excels  in  pa- 
thos, wit,  comparison,  imitation,  strength  of  reasoning, 
and  fluency  of  language.  There  is  in  him  that  union 
of  head  and  heart,  which  is  indispensable  to  an  enlight- 
enment of  the  heads  and  a  winning  of  the  hearts  of 
others.  May  his  strength  continue  to  be  equal  to  his 
day  !  May  he  continue  to  "  grow  in  grace,  and  in  the 
knowledge  of  God,"  that  he  may  be  increasingly  ser- 
viceable in  the  cause  of  bleeding  humanity,  whether  at 
home  or  abroad ! 

It  is  certainly  a  very  remarkable  fact,  that  one  of 
the  most  efficient  advocates  of  the  slave  population, 
now  before  the  public,  is  a  fugitive  slave,  in  the  person 
of  FREDERICK  DOUGLASS  ;  and  that  the  free  colored 
population  of  the  United  States  are  as  ably  represented 
by  one  of  their  own  number,  in  the  person  of  CHARLES 
LENOX  REMOND,  whose  eloquent  appeals  have  ex- 
torted the  highest  applause  of  multitudes  on  both  sides 
of  the  Atlantic.  Let  the  calumniators  of  the  colored 


PREFACE.  VU 

race  despise  themselves  for  their  baseness  and  illib- 
erally of  spirit,  and  henceforth  cease  to  talk  of  the 
natural  inferiority  of  those  who  require  nothing  but 
time  and  opportunity  to  attain  to  the  highest  point  of 
human  excellence. 

It  may,  perhaps,  be  fairly  questioned,  whether  any 
other  portion  of  the  population  of  the  earth  could  have 
endured  the  privations,  sufferings  and  horrors  of 
slavery,  without  having  become  more  degraded  in  the 
scale  of  humanity  than  the  slaves  of  African  descent 
Nothing  has  been  left  undone  to  cripple  their  intellects, 
darken  their  minds,  debase  their  moral  nature,  oblit- 
erate all  traces  of  their  relationship  to  mankind  ;  and 
yet  how  wonderfully  they  have  sustained  the  mighty 
load  of  a  most  frightful  bondage,  under  which  they 
have  been  groaning  for  centuries !  To  illustrate  the 
effect  of  slavery  on  the  white  man,  —  to  show  that  he  has 
no  powers  of  endurance,  in  such  a  condition,  superior 
to  those  of  his  black  brother,  —  DANIEL  O'CONNELL,  the 
distinguished  advocate  of  universal  emancipation,  and 
the  mightiest  champion  of  prostrate  but  not  conquered 
Ireland,  relates  the  following  anecdote  in  a  speech  de- 
livered by  him  in  the  Conciliation  Hall,  Dublin,  before 
the  Loyal  National  Repeal  Association,  March  31, 
1845.  "No  matter,"  said  Mr.  O'CONNELL,  "under 
what  specious  term  it  may  disguise  itself,  slavery  is 
still  hideous.  It  has  a  natural,  an  inevitable  tendency 
'to  brutalize  every  noble  faculty  of  man.  An  American 
sailor,  who  was  cast  away  on  the  shore  of  Africa, 
where  he  was  kept  in  slavery  for  three  years,  was,  at 
the  expiration  of  that  period,  found  to  be  imbruted  and 
stultified — he  had  lost  all  reasoning  power;  and  hav- 
ing forgotten  his  native  language,  could  only  utter  some 
savage  gibberish  between  Arabic  and  English,  which 
nobody  could  understand,  and  which  even  he  himself 
found  difficulty  in  pronouncing^  So  much  for  the  hu- 
manizing influence  of  THE  DOMESTIC  INSTITUTION  !  " 


Vlii  PREFACE, 

Admitting  this  to  have  been  an  extraordinary  case  of 
mental  deterioration,  it  proves  at  least  that  the  white 
slave  can  sink  as  low  in  the  scale  of  humanity  as  the 
black  one. 

Mr.  DOUGLASS  has  very  properly  chosen  to  write  his 
own  Narrative,  in  his  own  style,  and  according  to  the 
best  of  his  ability,  rather  than  to  employ  some  one  else. 
It  is,  therefore,  entirely  his  own  production  ;  and,  con- 
sidering how  long  and  dark  was  the  career  he  had  to  run 
as  a  slave,  —  how  few  have  been  his  opportunities  to 
improve  his  mind  since  he  broke  his  iron  fetters,  —  it 
is,  in  my  judgment,  highly  creditable  to  his  head  and 
heart.  He  who  can  peruse  it  without  a  tearful  eye,  a 
heaving  breast,  an  afflicted  spirit,  —  without  being 
filled  with  an  unutterable  abhorrence  of  slavery  and 
all  its  abettors,  and  animated  with  a  determination  to 
seek  the  immediate  overthrow  of  that  execrable  sys- 
tem,—  without  trembling  for  the  fate  of  this  country 
in  the  hands  of  a  righteous  God,  who  is  ever  on  the 
side  of  the  oppressed,  and  whose  arm  is  not  shortened 
that  it  cannot  save,  —  must  have  a  flinty  heart,  and  be 
qualified  to  act  the  part  of  a  trafficker  "  in  slaves  and 
the  souls  of  men."  I  am  confident  that  it  is  essen- 
tially true  in  all  its  statements ;  that  nothing  has  been 
set  down  in  malice,  nothing  exaggerated,  nothing  drawn 
from  the  imagination  ;  that  it  comes  short  of  the  reality, 
rather  than  overstates  a  single  fact  in  regard  to 
SLAVERY  AS  IT  is.  The  experience  of  FREDERICK 
DOUGLASS,  as  a  slave,  was  not  a  peculiar  one  ;  his  lot 
was  not  especially  a  hard  one  ;  his  case  may  be  re- 
garded as  a  very  fair  specimen  of  the  treatment  of 
slaves  in  Maryland,  in  which  State  it  is  conceded  that 
they  are  better  fed  and  less  cruelly  treated  than  in 
Georgia,  Alabama,  or  Louisiana.  Many  have  suffered 
incomparably  more,  while  very  few  on  the  plantations 
have  suffered  less,  than  himself.  Yet  how  deplorable 
was  his  situation !  what  terrible  chastisements  were 


PREFACE.  IX 

inflicted  upon  his  person!  what  still  more  shocking 
outrages  were  perpetrated  upon  his  mind  !  with  all  his 
noble  powers  and  sublime  aspirations,  how  like  a  brute 
was  he  treated,  even  by  those  professing  to  have  the 
same  mind  in  them  that  was  in  Christ  Jesus  !  to  what 
dreadful  liabilities  was  he  continually  subjected !  how 
destitute  of  friendly  counsel  and  aid,  even  in  his 
greatest  extremities  !  how  heavy  was  the  midnight  of 
woe  which  shrouded  in  blackness  the  last  ray  of  hope, 
and  filled  the  future  with  terror  and  gloom!  what 
longings  after  freedom  took  possession  of  his  breast, 
and  how  his  misery  augmented,  in  proportion  as  he 
grew  reflective  and  intelligent,  —  thus  demonstrating 
that  a  happy  slave  is  an  extinct  man !  how  he  thought, 
reasoned,  felt,  under  the  lash  of  the  driver,  with  the 
chains  upon  his  limbs !  what  perils  he  encountered  in 
his  endeavors  to  escape  from  his  horrible  doom  !  and 
how  signal  have  been  his  deliverance  and  preservation 
in  the  midst  of  a  nation  of  pitiless  enemies ! 

This  Narrative  contains  many  affecting  incidents, 
many  passages  of  great  eloquence  and  power ;  but  I 
think  the  most  thrilling  one  of  them  all  is  the  descrip- 
tion DOUGLASS  gives  of  his  feelings,  as  he  stood  so- 
liloquizing respecting  his  fate,  and  the  chances  of  his 
one  day  being  a  freeman,  on  the  banks  of  the  Chesa- 
peake Bay  —  viewing  the  receding  vessels  as  they  flew 
with  their  white  wings  before  the  breeze,  and  apostro- 
phizing them  as  animated  by  the  living  spirit  of  free- 
dom. Who  can  read  that  passage,  and  be  insensible 
to  its  pathos  and  sublimity  ?  Compressed  into  it  is  a 
whole  Alexandrian  library  of  thought,  feeling,  and  sen- 
timent—  all  that  can,  all  that  need  be  urged,  in  the 
form  of  expostulation,  entreaty,  rebuke,  against  that 
crime  of  crimes,  —  making  man  the  property  of  his 
fellow-man !  O,  how  accursed  is  that  system,  which 
entombs  the  godlike  mind  of  man,  defaces  the  divine 
image,  reduces  those  who  by  creation  were  crowned 


X  PREFACE. 

with  glory  and  honor  to  a  level  with  four-footed  beasts, 
and  exalts  the  dealer  in  human  flesh  above  all  that  is 
called  God !  Why  should  its  existence  be  prolonged 
one  hour  ?  Is  it  not  evil,  only  evil,  and  that  con- 
tinually ?  What  does  its  presence  imply  but  the  ab- 
sence of  all  fear  of  God,  all  regard  for  man,  on  the 
part  of  the  people  of  the  United  States  ?  Heaven 
speed  its  eternal  overthrow  ! 

So  profoundly  ignorant  of  the  nature  of  slavery  are 
many  persons,  that  they  are  stubbornly  incredulous 
whenever  they  read  or  listen  to  any  recital  of  the 
cruelties  which  are  daily  inflicted  on  its  victims.  They 
do  not  deny  that  the  slaves  are  held  as  property  ;  but 
that  terrible  fact  seems  to  convey  to  their  minds  no 
idea  of  injustice,  exposure  to  outrage,  or  savage  bar- 
barity. Tell  them  of  cruel  scourgings,  of  mutilations 
and  brandings,  of  scenes  of  pollution  and  blood,  of  the 
banishment  of  all  light  and  knowledge,  and  they  affect 
to  be  greatly  indignant  at  such  enormous  exagger- 
ations, such  wholesale  misstatements,  such  abominable 
libels  on  the  character  of  the  southern  planters !  As 
if  all  these  direful  outrages  were  not  the  natural  results 
of  slavery !  As  if  it  were  less  cruel  to  reduce  a  hu- 
man being  to  the  condition  of  a  thing,  than  to  give  him 
a  severe  flagellation,  or  to  deprive  him  of  necessary 
food  and  clothing !  As  if  whips,  chains,  thumb-screws, 
paddles,  bloodhounds,  overseers,  drivers,  patrols,  were 
not  all  indispensable  to  keep  the  slaves  down,  and  to 
give  protection  to  their  ruthless  oppressors  !  As  if, 
when  the  marriage  institution  is  abolished,  concubinage, 
adultery,  and  incest,  must  not  necessarily  abound  ;  when 
all  the  rights  of  humanity  are  annihilated,  any  barrier 
remains  to  protect  the  victim  from  the  fury  of  the 
spoiler ;  when  absolute  power  is  assumed  over  life  and 
liberty,  it  will  not  be  wielded  with  destructive  sway  ! 
Skeptics  of  this  character  abound  in  society.  In  some 
few  instances,  their  incredulity  arises  from  a  want  of 


PREFACE.  XI 

reflection  ;  but,  generally,  it  indicates  a  hatred  of  the 
light,  a  desire  to  shield  slavery  from  the  assaults  of 
its  foes,  a  contempt  of  the  colored  race,  whether 
bond  or  free.  Such  will  try  to  discredit  the  shocking 
tales  of  slaveholding  cruelty  which  are  recorded  in 
this  truthful  Narrative  ;  but  they  will  labor  in  vain. 
Mr.  DOUGLASS  has  frankly  disclosed  the  place  of  his 
birth,  the  names  of  those  who  claimed  ownership  in 
his  body  and  soul,  and  the  names  also  of  those  who 
committed  the  crimes  which  he  has  alleged  against 
them.  His  statements,  therefore,  may  easily  be  dis- 
proved, if  they  are  untrue. 

In  the  course  of  his  Narrative,  he  relates  two  in- 
stances of  murderous  cruelty,  —  in  one  of  which  a 
planter  deliberately  shot  a  slave  belonging  to  a  neigh- 
boring plantation,  who  had  unintentionally  gotten  with- 
in his  lordly  domain  in  quest  of  fish  ;  and  in  the  other, 
an  overseer  blew  out  the  brains  of  a  slave  who  had 
fled  to  a  stream  of  water  to  escape  a  bloody  scourging. 
Mr.  DOUGLASS  states  that  in  neither  of  these  instances 
was  any  thing  done  by  way  of  legal  arrest  or  judicial 
investigation.  The  Baltimore  American,  of  March  17, 
1845,  relates  a  similar  case  of  atrocity,  perpetrated 
with  similar  impunity  —  as  follows: — "Shooting  a 
Slave.  —  We  learn,  upon  the  authority  of  a  letter  from 
Charles  county,  Maryland,  received  by  a  gentleman  of 
this  city,  that  a  young  man,  named  Matthews,  a 
nephew  of  General  Matthews,  and  whose  father,  it  is 
believed,  holds  an  office  at  Washington,  killed  one  of 
the  slaves  upon  his  father's  farm  by  shooting  him. 
The  letter  states  that  young  Matthews  had  been  left  in 
charge  of  the  farm  ;  that  he  gave  an  order  to  the  ser- 
vant, which  was  disobeyed,  when  he  proceeded  to  the 
house,  obtained  a  gun,  and,  returning,  shot  the  servant. 
He  immediately,  the  letter  continues,  fled  to  his 
father's  residence,  where  he  still  remains  unmolested." 
—  Let  it  never  be  forgotten,  that  no  slaveholder  or 


Xll  PREFACE. 

overseer  can  be  convicted  of  any  outrage  perpetrated 
on  the  person  of  a  slave,  however  diabolical  it  may  be, 
on  the  testimony  of  colored  witnesses,  whether  bond  01 
free.  By  the  slave  code,  they  are  adjudged  to  be  as 
incompetent  to  testify  against  a  white  man,  as  though 
they  were  indeed  a  part  of  the  brute  creation.  Hence, 
there  is  no  legal  protection  in  fact,  whatever  there  may 
be  in  form,  for  the  slave  population  ;  and  any  amount 
of  cruelty  may  be  inflicted  on  them  with  impunity.  Is 
it  possible  for  the  human  mind  to  conceive  of  a  more 
horrible  state  of  society  ? 

The  effect  of  a  religious  profession  on  the  conduct 
of  southern  masters  is  vividly  described  in  the  follow- 
ing Narrative,  and  shown  to  be  any  thing  but  salutary. 
In  the  nature  of  the  case,  it  must  be  in  the  highest  de- 
gree pernicious.  The  testimony  of  Mr.  DOUGLASS,  on 
this  point,  is  sustained  by  a  cloud  of  witnesses,  whose 
veracity  is  unimpeachable.  "  A  slaveholder's  profes- 
sion of  Christianity  is  a  palpable  imposture.  He  is  a 
felon  of  the  highest  grade.  He  is  a  man-stealer.  It 
is  of  no  importance  what  you  put  in  the  other  scale." 

Reader  !  are  you  with  the  man-stealers  in  sympathy 
and  purpose,  or  on  the  side  of  their  down-trodden  vic- 
tims ?  If  with  the  former,  then  are  you  the  foe  of 
God  and  man.  If  with  the  latter,  what  are  you  pre- 
pared to  do  and  dare  in  their  behalf?  Be  faithful,  be 
vigilant,  be  untiring  in  your  efforts  to  break  every  yoke, 
and  let  the  oppressed  go  free.  Come  what  may  — 
cost  what  it  may  —  inscribe  on  the  banner  which  you 
unfurl  to  the  breeze,  as  your  religious  and  political 
motto — "No  COMPROMISE  WITH  SLAVERY!  No 
UNION  WITH  SLAVEHOLDERS  ! " 

WM.  LLOYD  GARRISON. 
BOSTON,  May  1,  1845. 


LETTER 

FROM  WENDELL  PHILLIPS,  ESQ. 


BOSTON,  April  22,  1845. 
My  Dear  Friend : 

You  remember  the  old  fable  of  "  The  Man 
and  the  Lion,"  where  the  lion,  complained  that  he 
should  not  be  so  misrepresented  "  when  the  lions  wrote 
history." 

I  am  glad  the  time  has  come  when  the  "  lions  write 
history."  We  have  been  left  long  enough  to  gather 
the  character  of  slavery  from  the  involuntary  evidence 
of  the  masters.  One  might,  indeed,  rest  sufficiently 
satisfied  with  what,  it  is  evident,  must  be,  in  general,  the 
results  of  such  a  relation,  without  seeking  farther  to  find 
whether  they  have  followed  in  every  instance.  Indeed, 
those  who  stare  at  the  half-peck  of  corn  a  week,  and 
love  to  count  the  lashes  on  the  slave's  back,  are  seldom 
the  "stuff"  out  of  which  reformers  and  abolitionists 
are  to  be  made.  I  remember  that,  in  1838,  many  were 
waiting  for  the  results  of  the  West  India  experiment, 
before  they  could  come  into  our  ranks.  Those 
"  results "  have  come  long  ago ;  but,  alas !  few  of 
that  number  have  come  with  them,  as  converts.  A 
man  must  be  disposed  to  judge  of  emancipation  by 
other  tests  than  whether  it  has  increased  the  produce 
of  sugar,  —  and  to  hate  slavery  for  other  reasons  than 
because  it  starves  men  and  whips  women,  —  before 
he  is  ready  to  lay  the  first  stone  of  his  anti-slavery  life 


XIV  LETTER    FROM    WENDELL    PHILLIPS,    ESQ. 

I  was  glad  to  learn,  in  your  story,  how  early  the  most 
neglected  of  God's  children  waken  to  a  sense  of  their 
rights,  and  of  the  injustice  done  them.  Experience  is 
a  keen  teacher ;  and  long  before  you  had  mastered 
your  A  B  C,  or  knew  where  the  "  white  sails  "  of 
the  Chesapeake  were  bound,  you  began,  I  see,  to 
gauge  the  wretchedness  of  the  slave,  not  by  his  hunger 
and  want,  not  by  his  lashes  and  toil,  but  by  the  cruel 
and  blighting  death  which  gathers  over  his  soul. 

In  connection  with  this,  there  is  one  circumstance 
which  makes  your  recollections  peculiarly  valuable, 
and  renders  your  early  insight  the  more  remarkable. 
You  come  from  that  part  of  the  country  where  we  are 
told  slavery  appears  with  its  fairest  features.  Let  us 
hear,  then,  what  it  is  at  its  best  estate  —  gaze  on  its 
bright  side,  if  it  has  one  ;  and  then  imagination  may 
task  her  powers  to  add  dark  lines  to  the  picture,  as 
she  travels  southward  to  that  (for  the  colored  man) 
Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death,  where  the  Mississippi 
sweeps  along. 

Again,  we  have  known  you  long,  and  can  put  the 
most  entire  confidence  in  your  truth,  candor,  and  sin- 
cerity. Every  one  who  has  heard  you  speak  has  felt, 
and,  I  am  confident,  every  one  who  reads  your  book 
will  feel,  persuaded  that  you  give  them  a  fair  specimen 
of  the  whole  truth.  No  one-sided  portrait,  —  no  whole- 
sale complaints,  —  but  strict  justice  done,  whenever 
individual  kindliness  has  neutralized,  for  a  moment, 
the  deadly  system  with  which  it  was  strangely  allied. 
You  have  been  with  us,  too,  some  years,  and  can 
fairly  compare  the  twilight  of  rights,  which  your  race 
enjoy  at  the  North,  with  that  "  noon  of  night "  under 
which  they  labor  south  of  Mason  and  Dixon's  line. 
Tell  us  whether,  after  all,  the  half-free  colored  man 
of  Massachusetts  is  worse  off  than  the  pampered 
clave  of  the  rice  swamps ! 

In  reading  your  life,  no  one  can  say  that  we  have 


LETTER   FKOM    WENDELL    PHILLIPS,   ESQ.  XY 

unfairly  picked  out  some  rare  specimens  of  cruelty. 
We  know  that  the  bitter  drops,  which  even  you  have 
drained  from  the  cup,  are  no  incidental  aggravations, 
no  individual  ills,  but  such  as  must  mingle  always  and 
necessarily  in  the  lot  of  every  slave.  They  are  the 
essential  ingredients,  not  the  occasional  results,  of  the 
system. 

After  all,  I  shall  read  your  book  with  trembling 
for  you.  Some  years  ago,  when  you  were  beginning 
to  tell  me  your  real  name  and  birthplace,  you  may 
remember  I  stopped  you,  and  preferred  to  remain 
ignorant  of  all.  With  the  exception  of  a  vague 
description,  so  I  continued,  till  the  other  day,  when  you 
read  me  your  memoirs.  I  hardly  knew,  at  the  time, 
whether  to  thank  you  or  not  for  the  sight  of  them, 
when  I  reflected  that  it  was  still  dangerous,  in  Massa- 
chusetts, for  honest  men  to  tell  their  names !  They 
say  the  fathers,  in  1776,  signed  the  Declaration  of 
Independence  with  the  halter  about  their  necks. 
You,  too,  publish  your  declaration  of  freedom  with 
danger  compassing  you  around.  In  all  the  broad  lands 
which  the  Constitution  of  the  United  States  over- 
shadows, there  is  no  single  spot,  —  however  narrow  or 
desolate,  —  where  a  fugitive  slave  can  plant  himself 
and  say,  "  I  am  safe."  The  whole  armory  of  North- 
ern Law  has  no  shield  for  you.  I  am  free  to  say  that, 
in  your  place,  I  should  throw  the  MS.  into  the  fire. 

You,  perhaps,  may  tell  your  story  in  safety,  endeared 
as  you  are  to  so  many  warm  hearts  by  rare  gifts,  and  a 
still  rarer  devotion  of  them  to  the  service  of  others. 
But  it  will  be  owing  only  to  your  labors,  and  the  fear- 
less efforts  of  those  who,  trampling  the  laws  and  Con- 
stitution of  the  country  under  their  feet,  are  determined 
that  they  will  "  hide  the  outcast,"  and  that  their  hearths 
shall  be,  spite  of  the  law,  an  asylum  for  the  oppressed, 
if,  some  time  or  other,  the  humblest  may  stand  in  OUT 


XVI  LETTER   FROM   WENDELL   PHILLIPS,   ESQ. 

streets,  and  bear  witness  in  safety  against  the  cruel« 
ties  of  which  he  has  been  the  victim. 

Yet  it  is  sad  to  think,  that  these  very  throbbing  hearts 
which  welcome  your  story,  and  form  your  best  safe- 
guard in  telling  it,  are  all  beating  contrary  to  the  "  stat- 
ute in  such  case  made  and  provided."  Go  on,  my  dear 
friend,  till  you,  and  those  who,  like  you,  have  been 
saved,  so  as  by  fire,  from  the  dark  prison-house,  shall 
stereotype  these  free,  illegal  pulses  into  statutes ;  and 
New  England,  cutting  loose  from  a  blood-stained 
Union,  shall  glory  in  being  the  house  of  refuge  for  the 
oppressed ;  —  till  we  no  longer  merely  "  hide  the  out- 
cast," or  make  a  merit  of  standing  idly  by  while  he 
is  hunted  in  our  midst ;  but,  consecrating  anew  the  soil 
of  the  Pilgrims  as  an  asylum  for  the  oppressed,  proclaim 
our  welcome  to  the  slave  so  loudly,  that  the  tones  shall 
reach  every  hut  in  the  Carolinas,  and  make  the  bro- 
ken-hearted bondman  leap  up  at  the  thought  of  old 
Massachusetts. 

God  speed  the  day  ! 

Till  then,  and  ever, 

Yours  truly, 
WENDELL  PHILLIPS. 

FREDERICK  DOUGLASS. 


NARRATIVE 


LIFE  OF  FREDERICK  DOUGLASS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

I  WAS  born  in  Tuckahoe,  near  Hillsborough,  and 
about  twelve  miles  from  Easton,  in  Talbot  county, 
Maryland.  I  have  no  accurate  knowledge  of  my  age, 
never  having  seen  any  authentic  record  containing  it. 
By  far  the  larger  part  of  the  slaves  know  as  little  of 
their  ages  as  horses  know  of  theirs,  arid  it  is  the  wish 
of  most  masters  within  my  knowledge  to  keep  their 
slaves  thus  ignorant.  I  do  not  remember  to  have  ever 
met  a  slave  who  could  tell  of  his  birthday.  They 
seldom  come  nearer  to  it  than  planting-time,  harvest- 
time,  cherry-time,  spring-time,  or  fall-time.  A  want 
of  information  concerning  my  own  was  a  source  of 
unhappiness  to  me  even  during  childhood.  The  white 
children  could  tell  their  ages.  I  could  not  tell  why  I 
ought  to  be  deprived  of  the  same  privilege.  I  was 
not  allowed  to  make  any  inquiries  of  my  master  con- 
cerning it.  He  deemed  all  such  inquiries  on  the-  part 
of  a  slave  improper  and  impertinent,  and  evidence  of 
1 


2  NARRATIVE    OF    THE 

a  restless  spirit.  The  nearest  estimate  I  can  give 
makes  me  now  between  twenty-seven  and  twenty- 
eight  years  of  age.  I  come  to  this,  from  hearing  my 
master  say,  some  time  during  1835, 1  was  about  seven- 
teen years  old. 

My  mother  was  named  Harriet  Bailey.  She  was 
the  daughter  of  Isaac  and  Betsey  Bailey,  both  colored, 
and  quite  dark.  My  mother  was  of  a  darker  com- 
plexion than  either  my  grandmother  or  grandfather. 

My  father  was  a  white  man.  He  was  admitted  to 
be  such  by  all  I  ever  heard  speak  of  my  parentage. 
The  opinion  was  also  whispered  that  my  master  was 
my  father ;  but  of  the  correctness  of  this  opinion,  I 
know  nothing ;  the  means  of  knowing  was  withheld 
from  me.  My  mother  and  I  were  separated  when  I 
was  but  an  infant  —  before  I  knew  her  as  my  mother. 
It  is  a  common  custom,  in  the  part  of  Maryland  from 
which  I  ran  away,  to  part  children  from  their  mothers 
at  a  very  early  age.  Frequently,  before  the  child  has 
reached  its  twelfth  month,  its  mother  is  taken  from  it, 
and  hired  out  on  some  farm  a  considerable  distance 
off,  and  the  child  is  placed  under  the  care  of  an  old 
woman,  too  old  for  field  labor.  For  what  this  sep- 
aration is  done,  I  do  not  know,  unless  it  be  to  hinder 
the  development  of  the  child's  affection  toward  its 
mother,  and  to  blunt  and  destroy  the  natural  affection 
of  the  mother  for  the  child.  This  is  the  inevitable 
result. 

I  never  saw  my  mother,  to  know  her  as  such,  more 
than  four  or  five  times  in  my  life ;  and  each  of  these 
times  was  very  short  in  duration,  and  at  night.  She 
was  hired  by  a  Mr.  Stewart,  who  lived  about  twelve 


LIFE  OF  FREDERICK  DOUGLASS.          3 

miles  from  my  home.  She  made  her  journeys  to  see 
me  in  the  night,  travelling  the  whole  distance  on  foot, 
after  the  performance  of  her  day's  work.  She  was  a 
field  hand,  and  a  whipping  is  the  penalty  of  not  being 
in  the  field  at  sunrise,  unless  a  slave  has  special  per- 
mission from  his  or  her  master  to  the  contrary — a 
oermission  which  they  seldom  get,  and  one  that  gives 
to  him  that  gives  it  the  proud  name  of  being  a  kind 
master.  I  do  not  recollect  of  ever  seeing  my  mother 
by  the  light  of  day.  She  was  with  me  in  the  night. 
She  would  lie  down  with  me,  and  get  me  to  sleep,  but 
long  before  I  waked  she  was  gone.  Very  little  com- 
munication ever  took  place  between  us.  Death  soon 
ended  what  little  we  could  have  while  she  lived,  and 
with  it  her  hardships  and  suffering.  She  died  when  I 
was  about  seven  years  old,  on  one  of  my  master's 
farms,  near  Lee's  Mill.  I  was  not  allowed  to  be 
present  during  her  illness,  at  her  death,  or  burial. 
She  was  gone  long  before  I  knew  any  thing  about  it. 
Never  having  enjoyed,  to  any  considerable  extent,  her 
soothing  presence,  her  tender  and  watchful  care,  I  re- 
ceived the  tidings  of  her  death  with  much  the  same 
emotions  I  should  have  probably  felt  at  the  death  of  a 
stranger. 

Called  thus  suddenly  away,  she  left  me  without  the 
slightest  intimation  of  who  my  father  was.  The  whis- 
per that  my  master  was  my  father,  may  or  may  not 
be  true ;  and,  true  or  false,  it  is  of  but  little  conse- 
quence to  my  purpose  whilst  the  fact  remains,  in  all  its 
glaring  odiousness,  that  slaveholders  have  ordained, 
and  by  law  established,  that  the  children  of  slave 
women  shall  in  all  cases  follow  the  condition  of  their 


4  NARRATIVE    OF   THE 

mothers ;  and  this  is  done  too  obviously  to  administer 
to  their  own  lusts,  and  make  a  gratification  of  their 
wicked  desires  profitable  as  well  as  pleasurable ;  for 
by  this  cunning  arrangement,  the  slaveholder,  in 
cases  not  a  few,  sustains  to  his  slaves  the  double  rela- 
tion of  master  and  father. 

I  know  of  such  cases  ;  and  it  is  worthy  of  remark 
that  such  slaves  invariably  suffer  greater  hardships,  and 
have  more  to  contend  with,  than  others.  They  are,  in 
the  first  place,  a  constant  offence  to  their  mistress. 
She  is  ever  disposed  to  find  fault  with  them  ;  they  can 
seldom  do  any  thing  to  please  her ;  she  is  never  better 
pleased  than  when  she  sees  them  under  the  lash, 
especially  when  she  suspects  her  husband  of  showing 
to  his  mulatto  children  favors  which  he  withholds  from 
his  black  slaves.  The  master  is  frequently  compelled 
to  sell  this  class  of  his  slaves,  out  of  deference  to  the 
feelings  of  his  white  wife ;  and,  cruel  as  the  deed  may 
strike  any  one  to  be,  for  a  man  to  sell  his  own  children 
to  human  flesh-mongers,  it  is  often  the  dictate  of  hu- 
manity for  him  to  do  so ;  for,  unless  he  does  this,  he 
must  not  only  whip  them  himself,  but  must  stand  by 
and  see  one  white  son  tie  up  his  brother,  of  but  few 
shades  darker  complexion  than  himself,  and  ply  the 
gory  lash  to  his  naked  back ;  and  if  he  lisp  one 
word  of  disapproval,  it  is  set  down  to  his  parental  par- 
tiality, and  only  makes  a  bad  matter  worse,  both  for 
himself  and  the  slave  whom  he  would  protect  and 
defend. 

Every  year  brings  with  it  multitudes  of  this  class  of 
slaves.  It  was  doubtless  in  consequence  of  a  knowl- 
edge of  this  fact,  that  one  great  statesman  of  the  south 


LIFE    OF    FREDERICK    DOUGLASS.  5 

predicted  the  downfall  of  slavery  by  the  inevitable 
laws  of  population.  Whether  this  prophecy  is  ever 
fulfilled  or  not,  it  is  nevertheless  plain  that  a  very 
different-looking  class  of  people  are  springing  up  at  the 
south,  and  are  now  held  in  slavery,  from  those  origin- 
ally brought  to  this  country  from  Africa ;  and  if  their 
increase  will  do  no  other  good,  it  will  do  away  the 
force  of  the  argument,  that  God  cursed  Ham,  and 
therefore  American  slavery  is  right.  If  the  lineal 
descendants  of  Ham  are  alone  to  be  scripturally  en- 
slaved, it  is  certain  that  slavery  at  the  south  must  soon 
become  unscri plural ;  for  thousands  are  ushered  into 
the  world,  annually,  who,  like  myself,  owe  their  ex- 
istence to  white  fathers,  and  those  fathers  most  fre- 
quently their  own  masters. 

I  have  had  two  masters.  My  first  master's  name 
was  Anthony.  I  do  not  remember  his  first  name. 
He  was  generally  called  Captain  Anthony  —  a  title 
which,  I  presume,  he  acquired  by  sailing  a  craft  on  the 
Chesapeake  Bay.  He  was  not  considered  a  rich  slave- 
holder. He  owned  two  or  three  farms,  and  about 
thirty  slaves.  His  farms  and  slaves  were  under  the 
care  of  an  overseer.  The  overseer's  name  was  Plum- 
mer.  Mr.  Plummer  was  a  miserable  drunkard,  a  pro- 
fane swearer,  and  a  savage  monster.  He  always  went 
armed  with  a  cowskin  and  a  heavy  cudgel.  I  have 
known  him  to  cut  and  slash  the  women's  heads  so 
horribly,  that  even  master  would  be  enraged  at  his 
cruelty,  and  would  threaten  to  whip  him  if  he  did  not 
mind  himself.  Master, 'however,  was  not  a  humane 
slaveholder.  It  required  extraordinary  barbarity  on 
the  part  of  an  overseer  to  affect  him.  He  was  a  cruel 


6  NARRATIVE    OF    THE 

man,  hardened  by  a  long  life  of  slaveholding.  He 
would  at  times  seem  to  take  great  pleasure  in  whipping 
a  slave.  I  have  often  been  awakened  at  the  dawn  of 
day  by  the  most  heart-rending  shrieks  of  an  own  aunt 
of  mine,  whom  he  used  to  tie  up  to  a  joist,  and  whip 
upon  her  naked  back  till  she  was  literally  covered  with 
blood.  No  words,  no  tears,  no  prayers,  from  his  gory 
victim,  seemed  to  move  his  iron  heart  from  its  bloody 
purpose.  The  louder  she  screamed,  the  harder  he 
whipped  ;  and  where  the  blood  ran  fastest,  there  he 
whipped  longest.  He  would  whip  her  to  make  her 
scream,  and  whip  her  to  make  her  hush ;  and  not 
until  overcome  by  fatigue,  would  he  cease  to  swing  the 
blood-clotted  cowskin.  I  remember  the  first  time  I 
ever  witnessed  this  horrible  exhibition.  I  was  quite  a 
child,  but  I  well  remember  it.  I  never  shall  forget  it 
whilst  I  remember  any  thing.  It  was  the  first  of  a 
long  series  of  such  outrages,  of  which  I  was  doomed 
to  be  a  witness  and  a  participant.  It  struck  me  with 
awful  force.  It  was  the  blood-stained  gate,  the  en- 
trance to  the  hell  of  slavery,  through  which  I  was 
about  to  pass.  It  was  a  most  terrible  spectacle.  I 
wish  I  could  commit  to  paper  the  feelings  with  which  I 
beheld  it. 

This  occurrence  took  place  very  soon  after  I  went 
to  live  with  my  old  master,  and  under  the  following 
circumstances.  Aunt  Hester  went  out  one  night, — 
where  or  for  what  I  do  not  know,  —  and  happened  to 
be  absent  when  my  master  desired  her  presence.  He 
had  ordered  her  not  to  go  out  evenings,  and  warned 
her  that  she  must  never  let  him  catch  her  in  company 
with  a  young  man,  who  was  paying  attention  to  her 


LIFE    OF   FREDERICK    DOUGLASS.  7 

belonging  to  Colonel  Lloyd.  The  young  man's  name 
was  Ned  Roberts,  generally  called  Lloyd's  Ned. 
Why  master  was  so  careful  of  her,  may  be  safely  left 
to  conjecture.  She  was  a  woman  of  noble  form,  and 
of  graceful  proportions,  having  very  few  equals,  and 
fewer  superiors,  in  personal  appearance,  among  the 
colored  or  white  women  of  our  neighborhood. 

Aunt  Hester  had  not  only  disobeyed  his  orders  in 
going  out,  but  had  been  found  in  company  with  Lloyd's 
Ned ;  which  circumstance,  I  found,  from  what  he  said 
while  whipping  her,  was  the  chief  offence.  Had  he 
been  a  man  of  pure  morals  himself,  he  might  have 
been  thought  interested  in  protecting  the  innocence  of 
rny  aunt ;  but  those  who  knew  him  will  not  suspect 
him  of  any  such  virtue.  Before  he  commenced 
whipping  Aunt  Hester,  he  took  her  into  the  kitchen, 
and  stripped  her  from  neck  to  waist,  leaving  her  neck, 
shoulders,  and  back,  entirely  naked.  He  then  told 
her  to  cross  her  hands,  calling  her  at  the  same  time  a 

d d  b h.      After  crossing  her  hands,  he  tied 

them  with  a  strong  rope,  and  led  her  to  a  stool  under  a 
large  hook  in  the  joist,  put  in  for  the  purpose.  He  made 
her  get  upon  the  stool,  and  tied  her  hands  to  the  hook. 
She  now  stood  fair  for  his  infernal  purpose.  Her 
arms  were  stretched  up  at  their  full  length,  so  that  she 
stood  upon  the  ends  of  her  toes.  He  then  said  to  her, 

"Now,  you  d d  b h,  I'll  learn  you   how   to 

disobey  my  orders ! "  and  after  rolling  up  his  sleeves, 
he  commenced  to  lay  on  the  heavy  cowskin,  and  soon 
the  warm,  red  blood  (amid  heart-rending  shrieks  from 
her,  and  horrid  oaths  from  him)  came  dripping  to  the 
floor.  I  was  so  terrified  and  horror-stricken  at  the 


8  NARRATIVE    OF  THE 

sight,  that  I  hid  myself  in  a  closet,  and  dared  not 
venture  out  till  long  after  the  bloody  transaction  was 
over.  I  expected  it  would  be  my  turn  next,  It  was 
all  new  to  me.  I  had  never  seen  any  thing  like  it 
before.  I  had  always  lived  with  my  grandmother  on 
the  outskirts  of  the  plantation,  where  she  was  put  to 
raise  the  children  of  the  younger  women.  I  had  there- 
fore been,  until  now,  out  of  the  way  of  the  bloody 
scenes  that  often  occurred  on  the  plantation. 


CHAPTER  IL 

MY  master's  family  consisted  of  two  sons,  Andrew 
and  Richard ;  one  daughter,  Lucretia,  and  her  husband, 
Captain  Thomas  Auld.  They  lived  in  one  house, 
upon  the  home  plantation  of  Colonel  Edward  Lloyd. 
My  master  was  Colonel  Lloyd's  clerk  and  superintend- 
ent. He  was  what  might  be  called  the  overseer  of 
the  overseers.  I  spent  two  years  of  childhood  on  this 
plantation  in  my  old  master's  family.  It  was  here  that 
I  witnessed  the  bloody  transaction  recorded  in  the  first 
chapter;  and  as  I  received  my  first  impressions  of 
slavery  on  this  plantation,  I  will  give  some  description 
of  it,  and  of  slavery  as  it  there  existed.  The  planta- 
tion is  about  twelve  miles  north  of  Easton,  in  Talbot 
county,  and  is  situated  on  the  border  of  Miles  River. 
The  principal  products  raised  upon  it  were  tobacco, 
corn,  and  wheat.  These  were  raised  in  great  abun- 


LIFE    OF    FREDERICK   DOUGLASS.  9 

dance ;  so  that,  with  the  products  of  this  and  the  other 
farms  belonging  to  him,  he  was  able  to  keep  in  almost 
constant  employment  a  large  sloop,  in  carrying  them  to 
market  at  Baltimore.  This  sloop  was  named  Sally 
Lloyd,  in  honor  of  one  of  the  colonel's  daughters. 
My  master's  son-in-law,  Captain  Auld,  was  master  of 
the  vessel ;  she  was  otherwise  manned  by  the  colonel's 
own  slaves.  Their  names  were  Peter,  Isaac,  Rich, 
and  Jake.  These  were  esteemed  very  highly  by  the 
other  slaves,  and  looked  upon  as  the  privileged  ones 
of  the  plantation;  for  it  was  no  small  affair,  in  the 
eyes  of  the  slaves,  to  be  allowed  to  see  Baltimore. 

Colonel  Lloyd  kept  from  three  to  four  hundred 
slaves  on  his  home  plantation,  and  owned  a  large 
number  more  on  the  neighboring  farms  belonging  to 
him.  The  names  of  the  farms  nearest  to  the  home 
plantation  were  Wye  Town  and  New  Design.  "  Wye 
Town  "  was  under  the  overseership  of  a  man  named 
Noah  Willis.  New  Design  was  under  the  overseer- 
ship  of  a  Mr.  Townsend.  The  overseers  of  these,  and 
all  the  rest  of  the  farms,  numbering  over  twenty,  re- 
ceived advice  and  direction  from  the  managers  of  the 
home  plantation.  This  was  the  great  business  place. 
It  was  the  seat  of  government  for  the  whole  twenty 
farms.  All  disputes  among  the  overseers  were  settled 
here.  If  a  slave  was  convicted  of  any  high  misde- 
meanor, became  unmanageable,  or  evinced  a  deter- 
mination to  run  away,  he  was  brought  immediately 
here,  severely  whipped,  put  on  board  the  sloop,  carried 
to  Baltimore,  and  sold  to  Austin  Woolfolk,  or  some 
other  slave-trader,  as  a  warning  to  the  slaves  remaining. 

Here,  too,  the  slaves  of  all  the  other  farms  received 


10  NARRATIVE    OF    THE 

their  monthly  allowance  of  food,  and  their  yearly 
clothing.  The  men  and  women  slaves  received,  as 
their  monthly  allowance  of  food,  eight  pounds  of  pork, 
or  its  equivalent  in  fish,  and  one  bushel  of  corn  meal. 
Their  yearly  clothing  consisted  of  two  coarse  linen 
shirts,  one  pair  of  linen  trousers,  like  the  shirts,  one 
jacket,  one  pair  of  trousers  for  winter,  made  of  coarse 
negro  cloth,  one  pair  of  stockings,  and  one  pair  of  shoes ; 
the  whole  of  which  could  not  have  cost  more  than 
seven  dollars.  The  allowance  of  the  slave  children 
was  given  to  their  mothers,  or  the  old  women  having 
the  care  of  them.  The  children  unable  to  work  in  the 
field  had  neither  shoes,  stockings,  jackets,  nor  trousers, 
given  to  them ;  their  clothing  consisted  of  two  coarse 
linen  shirts  per  year.  When  these  failed  them,  they 
went  naked  until  the  next  allowance-day.  Children 
from  seven  to  ten  years  old,  of  both  sexes,  almost 
naked,  might  be  seen  at  all  seasons  of  the  year. 

There  were  no  beds  given  the  slaves,  unless  one 
coarse  blanket  be  considered  such,  and  none  but  the 
men  and  women  had  these.  This,  however,  is  not 
considered  a  very  great  privation.  They  find  less 
difficulty  from  the  want  of  beds,  than  from  the  want 
of  time  to  sleep;  for  when  their  day's  work  in  the 
field  is  done,  the  most  of  them  having  their  washing, 
mending,  and  cooking  to  do,  and  having  few  or  none 
of  the  ordinary  facilities  for  doing  either  of  these,  very 
of  their  sleeping  hours  are  consumed  in  pre- 
for  the  field  the  coming  day ;  and  when  this  is 
done,  old  and  young,  male  and  female,  married  and 
single,  drop  down  side  by  side,  on  one  common  bed,  — • 
the  cold,  damp  floor,  —  each  covering  himself  or  herself 


LIFE    OF    FREDERICK    DOUGLASS.  11 

with  their  miserable  blankets ;  and  here  they  sleep  till 
they  are  summoned  to  the  field  by  the  driver's  horn. 
At  the  sound  of  this,  all  must  rise,  and  be  off  to  the 
field.  There  must  be  no  halting ;  every  one  must  be 
at  his  or  her  post ;  and  woe  betides  them  who  hear  not 
this  morning  summons  to  the  field  ;  for  if  they  are  not 
awakened  by  the  sense  of  hearing,  they  are  by  the 
sense  of  feeling :  no  age  nor  sex  finds  any  favor.  Mr. 
Severe,  the  overseer,  used  to  stand  by  the  door  of  the 
quarter,  armed  with  a  large  hickory  stick  and  heavy 
cowskin,  ready  to  whip  any  one  who  was  so  unfortu- 
nate as  not  to  hear,  or,  from  any  other  cause,  was  pre- 
vented from  being  ready  to  start  for  the  field  at  the 
sound  of  the  horn. 

Mr.  Severe  was  rightly  named :  he  was  a  cruel 
man.  I  have  seen  him  whip  a  woman,  causing  the 
blood  to  run  half  an  hour  at  the  time  ;  and  this,  too,  in 
the  midst  of  her  crying  children,  pleading  for  their 
mother's  release.  He  seemed  to  take  pleasure  in 
manifesting  his  fiendish  barbarity.  Added  to  his 
cruelty,  he  was  a  profane  swearer.  It  was  enough  to 
chill  the  blood  and  stiffen  the  hair  of  an  ordinary  man 
to  hear  him  talk.  Scarce  a  sentence  escaped  him  but 
that  was  commenced  or  concluded  by  some  horrid 
oath.  The  field  was  the  place  to  witness  his  cruelty 
and  profanity.  His  presence  made  it  both  the  field  of 
blood  and  of  blasphemy.  From  the  rising  till  the 
going  down  of  the  sun,  he  was  cursing,  raving,  cutting, 
and  slashing  among  the  slaves  of  the  field,  in  the  most 
frightful  manner.  His  career  was  short.  He  died 
very  soon  after  I  went  to  Colonel  Lloyd's;  and  he 
/iied  as  he  lived,  uttering,  with  his  dying  groans,  bitter 


12  NARRATIVE    OF    THE 

curses  and  horrid  oaths.  His  death  was  regarded  by 
the  slaves  as  the  result  of  a  merciful  providence. 

Mr.  Severe's  place  was  filled  by  a  Mr.  Hopkins. 
He  was  a  very  different  man.  He  was  less  cruel, 
less  profane,  and  made  less  noise,  than  Mr.  Severe. 
His  course  was  characterized  by  no  extraordinary 
demonstrations  of  cruelty.  He  whipped,  but  seemed 
to  take  no  pleasure  in  it.  He  was  called  by  the  slaves 
a  good  overseer. 

The  home  plantation  of  Colonel  Lloyd  wore  the 
appearance  of  a  country  village.  All  the  mechanical 
operations  for  all  the  farms  were  performed  here. 
The  shoemaking  and  mending,  the  blacksmithing, 
cartwrighting,  coopering,  weaving,  and  grain-grinding, 
were  all  performed  by  the  slaves  on  the  home  planta- 
tion. The  whole  place  wore  a  business-like  aspect 
very  unlike  the  neighboring  farms.  The  number  of 
houses,  too,  conspired  to  give  it  advantage  over  the 
neighboring  farms.  It  was  called  by  the  slaves  the 
Great  House  Farm.  Few  privileges  were  esteemed 
higher,  by  the  slaves  of  the  out-farms,  than  that  of 
being  selected  to  do  errands  at  the  Great  House  Farm. 
It  was  associated  in  their  minds  with  greatness.  A 
representative  could  not  be  prouder  of  his  election  to  a 
seat  in  the  American  Congress,  than  a  slave  on  one  of 
the  out-farms  would  be  of  his  election  to  do  errands  at 
the  Great  House  Farm.  They  regarded  it  as  evi- 
dence of  great  confidence  reposed  in  them  by  their 
overseers  ;  and  it  was  on  this  account,  as  well  as  a 
constant  desire  to  be  out  of  the  field  from  under  the 
driver's  lash,  that  they  esteemed  it  a  high  privilege,  one 
worth  careful  living  for.  He  was  called  the  smartest 


LIFE  OF  FREDERICK  DOUGLASS.         -13 

and  most  trusty  fellow,  who  had  this  honor  conferred 
upon  him  the  most  frequently.  The  competitors  for 
this  office  sought  as  diligently  to  please  their  overseers, 
as  the  office-seekers  in  the  political  parties  seek  to 
please  and  deceive  the  people.  The  same  traits  of 
character  might  be  seen  in  Colonel  Lloyd's  slaves,  as 
are  seen  in  the  slaves  of  the  political  parties. 

The  slaves  selected  to  go  to  the  Great  House  Farm, 
for  Ihe  monthly  allowance  for  themselves  and  their 
felloWslaves,  were  peculiarly  enthusiastic.  While  on 
their  way,  they  would  make  the  dense  old  woods,  for 
miles  around,  reverberate  with  their  wild  songs,  reveal- 
ing at  once  the  highest  joy  and  the  deepest  sadness. 
They  would  compose  and  sing  as  they  went  along, 
consulting  neither  time  nor  tune.  The  thought  that 
came  up,  came  out  —  if  not  in  the  word,  in  the  sound  ; 
—  and  as  frequently  in  the  one  as  in  the  other.  They 
would  sometimes  sing  the  most  pathetic  sentiment  in 
the  most  rapturous  tone,  and  the  most  rapturous  senti- 
ment in  the  most  pathetic  tone.  Into  all  of  their  songs 
they  would  manage  to  weave  something  of  the  Great 
House  Farm.  Especially  would  they  do  this,  when 
leaving  home.  They  would  then  sing  most  exultingly 
the  following  words :  — 

"  1  am  going  away  to  the  Great  House  Farm  ! 
O,  yea  !    O,  yea !    O  !  " 

This  they  would  sing,  as  a  chorus,  to  words  which  to 
many  would  seem  unmeaning  jargon,  but  which,  never- 
theless, were  full  of  meaning  to  themselves.  I  have 
sometimes  thought  that  the  mere  hearing  of  those 
songs  would  do  more  to  impress  some  minds  with  the 


14  NARRATIVE   OF   THE 

horrible  character  of  slavery,  than  the  reading  of  whole 
volumes  of  philosophy  on  the  subject  could  do. 

I  did  not,  when  a  slave,  understand  the  deep  mean- 
ing of  those  rude  and  apparently  incoherent  songs. 
I  was  myself  within  the  circle ;  so  that  I  neither  saw 
nor  heard  as  those  without  might  see  and  hear.  They 
told  a  tale  of  woe  which  was  then  altogether  beyond 
my  feeble  comprehension  ;  they  were  tones  loud,  long, 
and  deep  ;  they  breathed  the  prayer  and  complaint  of 
souls  boiling  over  with  the  bitterest  anguish.  Every 
tone  was  a  testimony  against  slavery,  and  a  prayer  to 
God  for  deliverance  from  chains.  The  hearing  of 
those  wild  notes  always  depressed  my  spirit,  and  filled 
me  with  ineffable  sadness.  I  have  frequently  found 
myself  in  tears  while  hearing  them.  The  mere  re- 
currence to  those  songs,  even  now,  afflicts  me ;  and 
while  I  am  writing  these  lines,  an  expression  of  feeling 
has  already  found  its  way  down  my  cheek.  To  those 
songs  I  trace  my  first  glimmering  conception  of  the 
dehumanizing  character  of  slavery.  I  can  never  get 
rid  of  that  conception.  Those  songs  still  follow  me,  to 
deepen  my  hatred  of  slavery,  and  quicken  my  sympa- 
thies for  my  brethren  in  bonds.  If  any  one  wishes  to 
be  impressed  with  the  soul-killing  effects  of  slavery, 
let  him  go  to  Colonel  Lloyd's  plantation,  and,  on  allow- 
ance-day, place  himself  in  the  deep  pine  woods,  and 
there  let  him,  in  silence,  analyze  the  sounds  that  shall 
pass  through  the  chambers  of  his  soul,  —  and  if  he  is 
not  thus  impressed,  it  will  only  be  because  "  there  is 
no  flesh  in  his  obdurate  heart." 

I  have  often  been  utterly  astonished,  since  I  came  to 
the  north,  to  find  persons  who  could  speak  ef  the  sing' 


LIFE    OF    FREDERICK   DOUGLASS.  15 

ing,  among  slaves,  as  evidence  of  their  contentment 
and  happiness.  It  is  impossible  to  conceive  of  a  great- 
er mistake.  Slaves  sing  most  when  they  are  most  un- 
happy. The  songs  of  the  slave  represent  the  sorrows 
of  his  heart ;  and  he  is  relieved  by  them,  only  as  an 
aching  heart  is  relieved  by  its  tears.  At  least,  such  is 
my  experience.  I  have  often  sung  to  drown  my  sor- 
row, but  seldom  to  express  my  happiness.  Crying  for 
joy,  and  singing  for  joy,  were  alike  uncommon  to  me 
while  in  the  jaws  of  slavery.  The  singing  of  a  man 
cast  away  upon  a  desolate  island  might  be  as  appro- 
priately considered  as  evidence  of  contentment  and 
happiness,  as  the  singing  of  a  slave  ;  the  songs  of  the 
one  and  of  the  other  are  prompted  by  the  same 
emotion. 


CHAPTER  III, 

COLONEL  LLOYD  kept  a  large  and  finely  cultivated 
garden,  which  afforded  almost  constant  employment 
for  four  men,  besides  the  chief  gardener,  (Mr.  M'Dur- 
mond.)  This  garden  was  probably  the  greatest  attrac- 
tion of  the  place.  During  the  summer  months,  people 
came  from  far  and  near  —  from  Baltimore,  Easton, 
and  Annapolis  —  to  see  it.  It  abounded  in  fruits  of 
almost  every  description,  from  the  hardy  apple  of  the 
north  to  the  delicate  orange  of  the  south.  This  garden 
was  not  the  least  source  of  trouble  on  the  plantation. 
Its  excellent  fruit  was  quite  a  temptation  to  the  hungry 


16  NARRATIVE    OF    THE 

swarms  of  boys,  as  well  as  the  older  slaves,  belonging  to 
the  colonel,  few  of  whom  had  the  virtue  or  the  vice  to 
resist  it.  Scarcely  a  day  passed,  during  the  summer, 
but  that  some  slave  had  to  take  the  lash  for  stealing 
fruit.  The  colonel  had  to  resort  to  all  kinds  of  strat- 
agems to  keep  his  slaves  out  of  the  garden.  The  last 
and  most  successful  one  was  that  of  tarring  his  fence 
all  around  ;  after  which,  if  a  slave  was  caught  with  any 
tar  upon  his  person,  it  was  deemed  sufficient  proof  that 
he  had  either  been  into  the  garden,  or  had  tried  to  get 
in.  In  either  case,  he  was  severely  whipped  by  the 
chief  gardener.  This  plan  worked  well ;  the  slaves 
became  as  fearful  of  tar  as  of  the  lash.  They  seemed 
to  realize  the  impossibility  of  touching  tar  without 
being  defiled. 

The  colonel  also  kept  a  splendid  riding  equipage. 
His  stable  and  carriage-house  presented  the  appear- 
ance of  some  of  our  large  city  livery  establishments. 
His  horses  were  of  the  finest  form  and  noblest  blood. 
His  carriage-house  contained  three  splendid  coaches, 
three  or  four  gigs,  besides  dearborns  and  barouches  of 
the  most  fashionable  style. 

This  establishment  was  under  the  care  of  two  slaves 
—  old  Barney  and  young  Barney  —  father  and  son. 
To  attend  to  this  establishment  was  their  sole  work. 
But  it  was  by  no  means  an  easy  employment ;  for  in 
nothing  was  Colonel  Lloyd  more  particular  than  in  the 
management  of  his  horses.  The  slightest  inattention 
to  these  was  unpardonable,  and  was  visited  upon  those, 
under  whose  care  they  were  placed,  with  the  severest 
punishment;  no  excuse  could  shield  them,  if  the 
colonel  only  suspected  any  want  of  attention  to  his 


LIFE    OF    FREDERICK    DOUGLASS.  1*7 

horses  —  a  supposition  which  he  frequently  indulged, 
and  one  which,  of  course,  made  the  office  of  old  and 
young  Barney  a  very  trying  one.  They  never  knew 
when  they  were  safe  from  punishment.  They  were 
frequently  whipped  when  least  deserving,  and  escaped 
whipping  when  most  deserving  it.  Every  thing  de- 
pended upon  the  looks  of  the  horses,  and  the  state  of 
Colonel  Lloyd's  own  mind  when  his  horses  were 
brought  to  him  for  use.  If  a  horse  did  not  move  fast 
enough,  or  hold  his  head  high  enough,  it  was  owing  to 
some  fault  of  his  keepers.  It  was  painful  to  stand 
near  the  stable-door,  and  hear  the  various  complaints 
against  the  keepers  when  a  horse  was  taken  out  for 
use.  "  This  horse  has  not  had  proper  attention.  He 
has  not  been  sufficiently  rubbed  and  curried,  or  he 
has  not  been  properly  fed  ;  his  food  was  too  wet  or  too 
dry ;  he  got  it  too  soon  or  too  late ;  he  was  too  hot  or 
too  cold ;  he  had  too  much  hay,  and  not  enough  of  grain  ; 
or  he  had  too  much  grain,  and  not  enough  of  hay ;  instead 
of  old  Barney's  attending  to  the  horse,  he  had  very  im- 
properly left  it  to  his  son."  To  all  these  complaints,  no 
matter  how  unjust,  the  slave  must  answer  never  a  word. 
Colonel  Lloyd  could  not  brook  any  contradiction  from 
a  slave.  When  he  spoke,  a  slave  must  stand,  listen, 
and  tremble  ;  and  such  was  literally  the  case.  I  have 
seen  Colonel  Lloyd  make  old  Barney,  a  man  between 
fifty  and  sixty  years  of  age,  uncover  his  bald  head, 
kneel  down  upon  the  cold,  damp  ground,  and  receive 
upon  his  naked  and  toil-worn  shoulders  more  than 
thirty  lashes  at  the  time.  Colonel  Lloyd  had  three 
sons  —  Edward,  Murray,  and  Daniel,  —  and  three 
sons-in-law,  Mr.  Winder,  Mr.  Nicholson,  and  Mr. 
2 


18  NARRATIVE    OF    THE 

Lowndes.  All  of  these  lived  at  the  Great  House 
Farm,  and  enjoyed  the  luxury  of  whipping  the  servants 
when  they  pleased,  from  old  Barney  down  to  William 
Wilkes,  the  coach-driver.  I  have  seen  Winder  make 
one  of  the  house-servants  stand  off  from  him  a  suitable 
distance  to  be  touched  with  the  end  of  his  whip,  and 
at  every  stroke  raise  great  ridges  upon  his  back. 

To  describe  the  wealth  of  Colonel  Lloyd  would  be 
almost  equal  to  describing  the  riches  of  Job.  He  kept 
from  ten  to  fifteen  house-servants.  He  was  said  to 
own  a  thousand  slaves,  and  I  think  this  ^stimate  quite 
within  the  truth.  Colonel  Lloyd  owned  so  many  that 
he  did  not  know  them  when  he  saw  them  ;  nor  did  all 
the  slaves  of  the  out-farms  know  him..,  It  is  reported 
of  him,  that,  while  riding  along  the  road  one  day,  he  met 
a  colored  man,  and  addressed  him  in  the  usual  manner 
of  speaking  to  colored  people  on  the  public  highways 
of  the  south  :  "Well,  boy,  whom  do  you  belong  to  ?  " 
"  To  Colonel  Lloyd,"  replied  the  slave.  "  Well,  does 
the  colonel  treat  you  well  ?  "  "  No,  sir,"  was  the 
ready  reply.  "  What,  does  he  work  you  too  hard  ?  " 
"  Yes,  sir."  "  Well,  don't  he  give  you  enough  to 
eat  ?  "  "  Yes,  sir,  he  gives  me  enough,  such  as  it  is." 

The  colonel,  after  ascertaining  where  the  slave  be- 
longed, rode  on;  the  man  also  went  on  about  his 
business,  not  dreaming  that  he  had  been  conversing 
with  his  master.  He  thought,  said,  and  heard  nothing 
more  of  the  matter,  until  two  or  three  weeks  after- 
wards. The  poor  man  was  then  informed  by  his  over- 
Beer  that,  for  having  found  fault  with  his  master,  he 
was  now  to  be  sold  to  a  Georgia  trader.  He  was  im- 
mediately chained  and  handcuffed ;  and  thus,  without  a 


LIFE    OF    FREDERICK    DOUGLASS.  19 

moment's  warning,  he  was  snatched  away,  and  foiever 
sundered,  from  his  family  and  friends,  by  a  hand  more 
unrelenting  than  death.  This  is  the  penalty  of  telling 
the  truth,  of  telling  the  simple  truth,  in  answer  to  a 
series  of  plain  questions. 

It  is  partly  in  consequence  of  such  facts,  that  slaves, 
when  inquired  of  as  to  their  condition  and  the  charac- 
ter of  their  masters,  almost  universally  say  they  are 
contented,  and  that  their  masters  are  kind.  The  slave- 
holders have  been  known  to  send  in  spies  among  their 
slaves,  to  ascertain  their  views  and  feelings  in  regard  to 
their  condition.  The  frequency  of  this  has  had  the 
effect  to  establish  among  the  slaves  the  maxim,  that  a 
still  tongue  makes  a  wise  head.  They  suppress  the 
truth  rather  than  take  the  consequences  of  telling  it, 
and  in  so  doing  prove  themselves  a  part  of  the  human 
family.  If  they  have  any  thing  to  say  of  their  mas- 
ters, it  is  generally  in  their  masters'  favor,  especially 
when  speaking  to  an  untried  man.  I  have  been  fre- 
quently asked,  when  a  slave,  if  I  had  a  kind  master, 
and  do  not  remember  ever  to  have  given  a  negative 
answer ;.  nor  did  I,  in  pursuing  this  course,  consider 
myself  as  uttering  what  was  absolutely  false ;  for  I 
always  measured  the  kindness  of  my  master  by  the 
standard  of  kindness  set  up  among  slaveholders  around 
us.  Moreover,  slaves  are  like  other  people,  and  imbibe 
prejudices  quite  common  to  others.  They  think  their 
own  better  than  that  of  others.  Many,  under  the  influ- 
ence of  this  prejudice,  think  their  own  masters  are 
better  than  the  masters  of  other  slaves  ;  and  this,  too, 
in  some  cases,  when  the  very  reverse  is  true.  Indeed, 
it  is  not  uncommon  for  slaves  even  to  fall  out  and 


20  NARRATIVE    OF   THE 

quarrel  among  themselves  about  the  relative  goodness 
of  their  masters,  each  contending  for  the  superior 
goodness  of  his  own  over  that  of  the  others.  At  the 
very  same  time,  they  mutually  execrate  their  masters 
when  viewed  separately.  It  was  so  on  our  plantation. 
When  Colonel  Lloyd's  slaves  met  the  slaves  of  Jacob 
Jepson,  they  seldom  parted  without  a  quarrel  about 
their  masters ;  Colonel  Lloyd's  slaves  contending  that 
he  was  the  richest,  and  Mr.  Jepson's  slaves  that  he 
was  the  smartest,  and  most  of  a  man.  Colonel  Lloyd's 
slaves  would  boast  his  ability  to  buy  and  sell  Jacob 
Jepson.  Mr.  Jepson's  slaves  would  boast  his  ability  to 
whip  Colonel  Lloyd.  These  quarrels  would  almost 
always  end  in  a  fight  between  the  parties,  and  those 
that  whipped  were  supposed  to  have  gained  the  point 
at  issue.  They  seemed  to  think  that  the  greatness  of 
their  masters  was  transferable  to  themselves.  It  was 
considered  as  being  bad  enough  to  be  a  slave ;  but  to 
be  a  poor  man's  slave  was  deemed  a  disgrace  indeed ! 


CHAPTER  IV. 


MR.  HOPKINS  remained  but  a  short  time  in  the  office 
of  overseer.  Why  his  career  was  so  short,  I  do  not 
know,  but  suppose  he  lacked  the  necessary  severity  to 
suit  Colonel  Lloyd.  Mr.  Hopkins  was  succeeded  by 
Mr.  Austin  Gore,  a  man  possessing,  in  an  eminent 
degree,  all  those  traits  of  character  indispensable  to 


LIFE  OF  FREDERICK  DOUGLASS.         21 

what  is  called  a  first-rate  overseer.  Mr.  Gore  had  served 
Colonel  Lloyd,  in  the  capacity  of  overseer,  upon  one  of 
the  out-farms,  and  had  shown  himself  worthy  of  the  high 
station  of  overseer  upon  the  home  or  Great  House  Farm. 
Mr.  Gore  was  proud,  ambitious,  and  persevering. 
He  was  artful,  cruel,  and  obdurate.  He  was  just  the 
man  for  such  a  place,  and  it  was  just  the  place  for 
such  a  man.  It  afforded  scope  for  the  full  exercise  of 
all  his  powers,  and  he  seemed  to  be  perfectly  at  home 
in  it.  He  was  one  of  those  who  could  torture  the 
slightest  look,  word,  or  gesture,  on  the  part  of  the 
slave,  into  impudence,  and  would  treat  it  accordingly. 
There  must  be  no  answering  back  to  him  ;  no  expla- 
nation was  allowed  a  slave,  showing  himself  to  have 
been  wrongfully  accused.  Mr.  Gore  acted  fully  up 
to  the  maxim  laid  down  by  slaveholders,  —  "It  is 
better  that  a  dozen  slaves  suffer  under  the  lash,  than 
that  the  overseer  should  be  convicted,  in  the  presence 
of  the  slaves,  of  having  been  at  fault."  No  matter  how 
innocent  a  slave  might  be  —  it  availed  him  nothing, 
when  accused  by  Mr.  Gore  of  any  misdemeanor.  To 
be  accused  was  to  be  convicted,  and  to  be  convicted 
was  to  be  punished  ;  the  one  always  following  the  other 
with  immutable  certainty.  To  escape  punishment  was 
to  escape  accusation ;  and  few  slaves  had  the  fortune  to 
do  either,  under  the  overseership  of  Mr.  Gore.  He 
was  just  proud  enough  to  demand  the  most  debasing 
homage  of  the  slave,  and  quite  servile  enough  to 
crouch,  himself,  at  the  feet  of  the  master.  He  was 
ambitious  enough  to  be  contented  with  nothing  short 
of  the  highest  rank  of  overseers,  and  persevering 
enough  to  reach  the  height  of  his  ambition.  He  was 


23  NARRATIVE    OF   THE 

cruel  enough  to  inflict  the  severest  punishment,  artful 
enough  to  descend  to  the  lowest  trickery,  and  obdurate 
enough  to  be  insensible  to  the  voice  of  a  reproving 
conscience.  He  was,  of  all  the  overseers,  the  most 
dreaded  by  the  slaves.  His  presence  was  painful ;  his 
eye  flashed  confusion ;  and  seldom  was  his  sharp, 
shrill  voice  heard,  without  producing  horror  and  trem- 
bling in  their  ranks. 

Mr.  Gore  was  a  grave  man,  and,  though  a  young 
man,  he  indulged  in  no  jokes,  said  no  funny  words, 
seldom  smiled.  His  words  were  in  perfect  keeping 
with  his  looks,  and  his  looks  were  in  perfect  keeping 
with  his  words.  Overseers  will  sometimes  indulge  in 
a  witty  word,  even  with  the  slaves;  not  so  with  Mr. 
Gore.  He  spoke  but  to  command,  and  commanded 
but  to  be  obeyed  ;  he  dealt  sparingly  with  his  words, 
and  bountifully  with  his  whip,  never  using  the  former 
where  the  latter  would  answer  as  well.  When  he 
whipped,  he  seemed  to  do  so  from  a  sense  of  duty,  and 
feared  no  consequences.  He  did  nothing  reluctantly, 
no  matter  how  disagreeable  ;  always  at  his  post,  never 
inconsistent.  He  never  promised  but  to  fulfil.  He 
was,  in  a  word,  a  man  of  the  most  inflexible  firmness 
and  stone-like  coolness. 

His  savage  barbarity  was  equalled  only  by  the  con- 
summate coolness  with  which  he  committed  the  grossest 
and  most  savage  deeds  upon  the  slaves  under  his  charge. 
Mr.  Gore  once  undertook  to  whip  one  of  Colonel  Lloyd's 
slaves,  by  the  name  of  Demby.  He  had  given  Demby 
but  few  stripes,  when,  to  get  rid  of  the  scourging,  he 
ran  and  plunged  himself  into  a  creek,  and  stood  there 
at  the  depth  of  his  shoulders,  refusing  to  come  ouU 


LIFE  OF  FREDERICK  DOUGLASS.         23 

Mr.  Gore  told  him  that  he  would  give  him  three  calls, 
and  that,  if  he  did  not  come  out  at  the  third  call,  he 
would  shoot  him.  The  first  call  was  given.  Demby 
made  no  response,  but  stood  his  ground.  The  second 
and  third  calls  were  given  with  the  same  result.  Mr. 
Gore  then,  without  consultation  or  deliberation  with 
any  one,  not  even  giving  Demby  an  additional  call, 
raised  his  musket  to  his  face,  taking  deadly  aim  at  his 
standing  victim,  and  in  an  instant  poor  Demby  was  no 
more.  His  mangled  body  sank  out  of  sight,  and  blood 
and  brains  marked  the  water  where  he  had  stood. 

A  thrill  of  horror  flashed  through  every  soul  upon  the 
plantation,  excepting  Mr.  Gore.  He  alone  seemed  cool 
and  collected.  He  was  asked  by  Colonel  Lloyd  and 
my  old  master,  why  he  resorted  to  this  extraordinary 
expedient.  His  reply  was,  (as  well  as  I  can  remem- 
ber,) that  Demby  had  become  unmanageable.  He  was 
setting  a  dangerous  example  to  the  other  slaves,  —  one 
which,  if  suffered  to  pass  without  some  such  demon- 
stration on  his  part,  would  finally  lead  to  the  total  sub- 
version of  all  rule  and  order  upon  the  plantation.  He 
argued  that  if  one  slave  refused  to  be  corrected,  and 
escaped  with  his  life,  the  other  slaves  would  soon  copy 
the  example ;  the  result  of  which  would  be,  the  free- 
dom of  the  slaves,  and  the  enslavement  of  the  whites. 
Mr.  Gore's  defence  was  satisfactory.  He  was  contin- 
ued in  his  station  as  overseer  upon  the  home  plantation. 
His  fame  as  an  overseer  went  abroad.  His  horrid  crime 
was  not  even  submitted  to  judicial  investigation.  It 
was  committed  in  the  presence  of  slaves,  and  they  of 
course  could  neither  institute  a  suit,  nor  testify  against 
him  ;  and  thus  the  guilty  perpetrator  of  one  of  the 


24 


NARRATIVE    OF    THE 


bloodiest  and  most  foul  murders  goes  unwhipped  of 
justice,  and  uncensured  by  the  community  in  which  he 
lives.  Mr.  Gore  lived  in  St.  Michael's,  Talbot  county, 
Maryland,  when  I  left  there  ;  and  if  he  is  still  alive,  he 
very  probably  lives  there  now  ;  and  if  so,  he  is  now,  as 
he  was  then,  as  highly  esteemed  and  as  much  re- 
spected as  though  his  guilty  soul  had  not  been  stained 
with  his  brother's  blood. 

I  speak  advisedly  when  I  say  this,  —  that  killing  a 
slave,  or  any  colored  person,  in  Talbot  county,  Mary- 
land, is  not  treated  as  a  crime,  either  by  the  courts 
or  the  community.  Mr.  Thomas  Lanman,  of  St. 
Michael's,  killed  two  slaves,  one  of  whom  he  killed  with 
a  hatchet,  by  knocking  his  brains  out.  He  used  to 
boast  of  the  commission  of  the  awful  and  bloody  deed. 
I  have  heard  him  do  so  laughingly,  saying,  among 
other  things,  that  he  was  the  only  benefactor  of  his 
country  in  the  company,  and  that  when  others  would 
do  as  much  as  he  had  done,  we  should  be  relieved  of 
"  the  d  -  d  niggers." 

The  wife  of  Mr.  Giles  Hick,  living  but  a  short  dis- 
tance from  where  I  used  to  live,  murdered  my  wife's 
cousin,  a  young  girl  between  fifteen  and  sixteen  years 
of  age,  mangling  her  person  in  the  most  horrible  man- 
ner, breaking  her  nose  and  breastbone  with  a  stick, 
so  that  the  poor  girl  expired  in  a  few  hours  afterward. 
She  was  immediately  buried,  but  had  not  been  in  her 
untimely  grave  but  a  few  hours  before  she  was  taken 
up  and  examined  by  the  coroner,  who  decided  that  she 
had  come  to  her  death  by  severe  beating.  The  offence 
for  which  this  girl  was  thus  murdered  was  this  :  — 
She  had  been  set  that  night  to  mind  Mrs.  Hick's  baby 


LIFE  OF  FREDERICK  DOUGLASS.         25 

and  during  the  night  she  fell  asleep,  and  the  baby 
cried.  She,  having  lost  her  rest  for  several  nights  pre- 
vious, did  not  hear  the  crying.  They  were  both  in  the 
room  with  Mrs.  Hicks.  Mrs.  Hicks,  finding  the  girl 
slow  to  move,  jumped  from  her  bed,  seized  an  oak 
stick  of  wood  by  the  fireplace,  and  with  it  broke  the 
girl's  nose  and  breastbone,  and  thus  ended  her  life.  I 
will  not  say  that  this  most  horrid  murder  produced  no 
sensation  in  the  community.  It  did  produce  sensation, 
but  not  enough  to  bring  the  murderess  to  punishment. 
There  was  a  warrant  issued  for  her  arrest,  but  it  was 
never  served.  Thus  she  escaped  not  only  punishment, 
but  even  the  pain  of  being  arraigned  before  a  court  for 
her  horrid  crime. 

Whilst  I  am  detailing  bloody  deeds  which  took  place 
during  my  stay  on  Colonel  Lloyd's  plantation,  I  will 
briefly  narrate  another,  which  occurred  about  the  same 
time  as  the  murder  of  Demby  by  Mr.  Gore. 

Colonel  Lloyd's  slaves  were  in  the  habit  of  spending 
a  part  of  their  nights  and  Sundays  in  fishing  for 
oysters,  and  in  this  way  made  up  the  deficiency  of 
their  scanty  allowance.  An  old  man  belonging  to 
Colonel  Lloyd,  while  thus  engaged,  happened  to  get 
beyond  the  limits  of  Colonel  Lloyd's,  and  on  the  prem- 
ises of  Mr.  Deal  Bondly.  At  this  trespass,  Mr.  Bondly 
took  offence,  and  with  his  musket  came  down  to  the 
shore,  and  blew  its  deadly  contents  into  the  poor  old 
man. 

Mr.  Bondly  came  over  to  see  Colonel  Lloyd  the 
next  day,  whether  to  pay  him  for  his  property,  or  to 
justify  himself  in  what  he  had  done,  I  know  not.  At 
any  rate,  this  whole  fiendish  transaction  was  soon 


NARRATIVE    OF    THE 


hushed  up.  There  was  very  little  said  about  it  at  all, 
and  nothing  done.  It  was  a  common  saying,  even 
among  little  white  boys,  that  it  was  worth  a  half-cent 
to  kill  a  "  nigger,"  and  a  half-cent  to  bury  one. 


CHAPTER  V. 

As  to  my  own  treatment  while  I  lived  on  Colonel 
Lloyd's  plantation,  it  was  very  similar  to  that  of  the 
other  slave  children.  I  was  not  old  enough  to  work  in 
the  field,  and  there  being  little  else  than  field  work  to 
do,  I  had  a  great  deal  of  leisure  time.  The  most  I 
had  to  do  was  to  drive  up  the  cows  at  evening,  keep 
the  fowls  out  of  the  garden,  keep  the  front  yard  clean, 
and  run  of  errands  for  my  old  master's  daughter, 
Mrs.  Lucretia  Auld.  The  most  of  my  leisure  time  I 
spent  in  helping  Master  Daniel  Lloyd  in  finding  his 
birds,  after  he  had  shot  them.  My  connection  with 
Master  Daniel  was  of  some  advantage  to  me.  He  be- 
came quite  attached  to  me,  and  was  a  sort  of  protector 
of  me.  He  would  not  allow  the  older  boys  to  impose 
upon  me,  and  would  divide  his  cakes  with  me. 

I  was  seldom  whipped  by  my  old  master,  and  suf- 
fered little  from  any  thing  else  than  hunger  and  cold. 
I  suffered  much  from  hunger,  but  much  more  from 
cold.  In  hottest  summer  and  coldest  winter,  I  was  kept 
almost  naked  —  no  shoes,  no  stockings,  no  jacket,  no 
trousers,  nothing  on  but  a  coarse  tow  linen  shirt,  reach 


LIFE    OF    FREDERICK    DOUGLASS.  27 

ing  only  to  my  knees.  I  'had  no  bed.  I  must  have 
perished  with  cold,  but  that,  the  coldest  nights,  I  used  to 
steal  a  bag  which  was  used  for  carrying  corn  to.  the 
mill.  I  would  crawl  into  this  bag,  and  there  sleep  on 
the  cold,  damp,  clay  floor,  with  my  head  in  and  feet 
out.  My  feet  have  been  so  cracked  with  the  frost,  that 
the  pen  with  which  I  am  writing  might  be  laid  in  the 
gashes. 

We  were  not  regularly  allowanced.  Our  food  was 
coarse  corn  meal  boiled.  This  was  called  mush.  It 
was  put  into  a  large  wooden  tray  or  trough,  and  set 
down  upon  the  ground.  The  children  were  thej 
called,  like  so  many  pigs,  and  like  so  many^pigsfthey 
would  come  and  devour  the  mush ;  some  with  oyster- 
shells,  others  with  pieces  of  shingle,  some  with  naked 
hands,  and  none  with  spoons.  He  that  ate  fastest  got 
most ;  he  that  was  strongest  secured  the  best  place ; 
and  few  left  the  trough  satisfied. 

I  was  probably  between  seven  and  eight  years  old 
when  I  left  Colonel  Lloyd's  plantation.  I  left  it  with 
joy.  I  shall  never  forget  the  ecstasy  with  which  I  re- 
ceived the  intelligence  that  my  old  master  (Anthony) 
had  determined  to  let  me  go  to  Baltimore,  to  live  with 
Mr.  Hugh  Auld,  brother  to  my  old  master's  son-in-law, 
Captain  Thomas  Auld.  I  received  this  information 
about  three  days  before  my  departure.  They  were 
three  of  the  happiest  days  I  ever  enjoyed.  I  spent  the 
most  part  of  all  these  three  days  in  the  creek,  washing 
off  the  plantation  scurf,  and  preparing  myself  for  my 
departure. 

The  pride  of  appearance  which  this  would  indicate 
was  not  my  own.  I  spent  the  time  in  washing,  not  so 


38  NARRATIVE    OF    THE 

much  because  I  wished  to,  but  because  Mrs.  Lucretia 
had  told  me  I  must  get  all  the  dead  skin  off  my  feet 
and  knees  before  I  could  go  to  Baltimore  ;  for  the 
people  in  Baltimore  were  very  cleanly,  and  would 
laugh  at  me  if  I  looked  dirty.  Besides,  she  was  going 
to  give  me  a  pair  of  trousers,  which  I  should  not  put 
on  unless  I  got  all  the  dirt  off  me.  The  thought  of 
owning  a  pair  of  trousers  was  great  indeed  !  It  was 
almost  a  sufficient  motive,  not  only  to  make  me  take 
off  what  would  be  called  by  pig-drovers  the  mange, 
but  the  skin  itself.  I  went  at  it  in  good  earnest,  work- 
ing for  the  first  time  with  the  hope  of  reward. 

The  ties  that  ordinarily  bind  children  to  their  homes 
were  all  suspended  in  my  case.  I  found  no  severe 
trial  in  my  departure.  My  home  was  charmless;  it 
was  not  home  to  me ;  on  parting  from  it,  I  could  not 
feel  that  I  was  leaving  any  thing  which  I  could  have 
enjoyed  by  staying.  My  mother  was  dead,  my  grand- 
mother lived  far  off,  so  that  I  seldom  saw  her.  I  had 
two  sisters  and  one  brother,  that  lived  in  the  same 
house  with  me ;  but  the  early  separation  of  us  from 
our  mother  had  well  nigh  blotted  the  fact  of  our  rela- 
tionship from  our  memories.  I  looked  for  home  else- 
where, and  was  confident  of  finding  none  which  I 
should  relish  less  than  the  one  which  I  was  leaving. 
If,  however,  I  found  in  my  new  home  hardship,  hun- 
ger, whipping,  and  nakedness,  I  had  the  consolation 
that  I  should  not  have  escaped  any  one  of  them  by 
staying.  Having  already  had  more  than  a  taste  of 
them  in  the  house  of  my  old  master,  and  having  en- 
dured them  there,  I  very  naturally  inferred  my  ability 
to  endure  them  elsewhere,  and  especially  at  Baltimore  ; 


LIFE  OF  FREDERICK  DOUGLASS.         29 

for  I  had  something  of  the  feeling  about  Baltimore  that 
is  expressed  in  the  proverb,  that  "  being  hanged  in 
England  is  preferable  to  dying  a  natural  death  in  Ire- 
land." I  had  the  strongest  desire  to  see  Baltimore. 
Cousin  Tom,  though  not  fluent  in  speech,  had  inspired 
me  with  that  desire  by  his  eloquent  description  of  the 
place.  I  could  never  point  out  any  thing  at  the  Great 
House,  no  matter  how  beautiful  or  powerful,  but  that 
he  had  seen  something  at  Baltimore  far  exceeding,  both 
in  beauty  and  strength,  the  object  which  I  pointed  out 
to  him.  Even  the  Great  House  itself,  with  all  its 
pictures,  was  far  inferior  to  many  buildings  in  Bal- 
timore. So  strong  was  my  desire,  that  I  thought  a 
gratification  of  it  would  fully  compensate  for  whatever 
loss  of  comforts  I  should  sustain  by  the  exchange. 
I  left  without  a  regret,  and  with  the  highest  hopes  of 
future  happiness. 

We  sailed  out  of  Miles  River  for  Baltimore  on  a 
Saturday  morning.  I  remember  only  the  day  of  the 
week,  for  at  that  time  I  had  no  knowledge  of  the  days 
of  the  month,  nor  the  months  of  the  year.  On  setting 
sail,  I  walked  aft,  and  gave  to  Colonel  Lloyd's  plantation 
what  I  hoped  would  be  the  last  look.  I  then  placed 
myself  in  the  bows  of  the  sloop,  and  there  spent  the 
remainder  of  the  day  in  looking  ahead,  interesting 
myself  in  what  was  in  the  distance  rather  than  in  things 
near  by  or  behind. 

In  the  afternoon  of  that  day,  we  reached  Annapolis, 
the  capital  of  the  State.  We  stopped  but  a  few  mo- 
ments, so  that  I  had  no  time  to  go  on  shore.  It  was 
the  first  large  town  that  I  had  ever  seen,  and  though  it 
would  look  small  compared  with  some  of  our  New 


30  NARRATIVE    OF    THE 

England  factory  villages,  I  thought  it  a  wonderfu, 
place  for  its  size  —  more  imposing  even  than  the 
Great  House  Farm  ! 

We  arrived  at  Baltimore  early  on  Sunday  morning, 
landing  at  Smith's  Wharf,  not  far  from  Bowley's 
Wharf.  We  had  on  board  the  sloop  a  large  flock  of 
sheep  ;  and  after  aiding  in  driving  them  to  the  slaughter- 
house of  Mr.  Curtis  on  Louden  Slater's  Hill,  I  was 
conducted  by  Rich,  one  of  the  hands  belonging  on 
board  of  the  sloop,  to  my  new  home  in  Alliciana 
Street,  near  Mr.  Gardner's  ship-yard,  on  Fells  Point. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Auld  were  both  at  home,  and  met  me 
at  the  door  with  their  little  son  Thomas,  to  take  care 
of  whom  I  had  been  given.  And  here  I  saw  what  I 
had  never  seen  before  ;  it  was  a  white  face  beaming 
with  the  most  kindly  emotions ;  it  was  the  face  of  my 
new  mistress,  Sophia  Auld.  I  wish  I  could  describe 
the  rapture  that  flashed  through  my  soul  as  I  beheld  it. 
It  was  a  new  and  strange  sight  to  me,  brightening  up 
my  pathway  with  the  light  of  happiness.  Little 
Thomas  was  told,  there  was  his  Freddy, —  and  I  was 
told  to  take  care  of  little  Thomas ;  and  thus  I  entered 
upon  the  duties  of  my  new  home  with  the  most  cheer- 
ing prospect  ahead. 

I  look  upon  my  departure  from  Colonel  Lloyd's 
plantation  as  one  of  the  most  interesting  events  of  my 
life.  It  is  possible,  and  even  quite  probable,  that  but 
for  the  mere  circumstance  of  being  removed  from 
that  plantation  to  Baltimore,  I  should  have  to-day, 
instead  of  being  here  seated  by  my  own  table,  in  the 
enjoyment  of  freedom  and  the  happiness  of  home, 
writing  this  Narrative,  been  confined  in  the  galling 


LIFE    OP    FREDERICK   DOUGLASS.  31 

chains  of  slavery.  Going  to  live  at  Baltimore  laid 
the  foundation,  and  opened  the  gateway,  to  all  my 
subsequent  prosperity.  I  have  ever  regarded  it  as  the 
first  plain  manifestation  of  that  kind  providence  which 
has  ever  since  attended  me,  and  marked  my  life  with 
so  many  favors.  I  regarded  the  selection  of  myself  as 
being  somewhat  remarkable.  There  were  a  number 
of  slave  children  that  might  have  been  sent  from  the 
plantation  to  Baltimore.  There  were  those  younger, 
those  older,  and  those  of  the  same  age.  I  was  chosen 
from  among  them  all,  and  was  the  first,  last,  and  only 
choice. 

I  may  be  deemed  superstitious,  and  even  egotistical, 
m  regarding  this  event  as  a  special  interposition  of 
divine  Providence  in  my  favor.  But  I  should  be 
false  to  the  earliest  sentiments  of  my  soul,  if  I  sup- 
pressed the  opinion.  I  prefer  to  be  true  to  myself, 
even  at  the  hazard  of  incurring  the  ridicule  of 
others,  rather  than  to  be  false,  and  incur  my  own  ab- 
horrence. From  my  earliest  recollection,  I  date  the 
entertainment  of  a  deep  conviction  that  slavery  would 
not  always  be  able  to  hold  me  within  its  foul  embrace ; 
and  in  the  darkest  hours  of  my  career  in  slavery,  this 
living  word  of  faith  and  spirit  of  hope  departed  not 
from  me,  but  remained  like  ministering  angels  to  cheer 
me  through  the  gloom.  This  good  spirit  was  from 
God,  and  to  him  I  offer  thanksgiving  and  praise. 


32  NARRATIVE    OP   THE 


CHAPTER  VI. 

MY  new  mistress  proved  to  be  all  she  appeared 
when  I  first  met  her  at  the  door,  —  a  woman  of  the 
kindest  heart  and  finest  feelings.  She  had  never  had  a 
slave  under  her  control  previously  to  myself,  and  prior 
to  her  marriage  she  had  been  dependent  upon  her  own 
industry  for  a  living.  She  was  by  trade  a  weaver ;  and 
by  constant  application  to  her  business,  she  had  been  in 
a  good  degree  preserved  from  the  blighting  and  dehu- 
manizing effects  of  slavery.  I  was  utterly  astonished 
at  her  goodness.  I  scarcely  knew  how  to  behave 
towards  her.  She  was  entirely  unlike  any  other  white 
woman  I  had  ever  seen.  I  could  not  approach  her  as 
I  was  accustomed  to  approach  other  white  ladies.  My 
early  instruction  was  all  out  of  place.  The  crouching 
servility,  usually  so  acceptable  a  quality  in  a  slave, 
did  not  answer  when  manifested  toward  her.  Her 
favor  was  not  gained  by  it;  she  seemed  to  be  dis- 
turbed by  it.  She  did  not  deem  it  impudent  or  unman- 
nerly for  a  slave  to  look  her  in  the  face.  The  mean- 
est slave  was  put  fully  at  ease  in  her  presence,  and 
none  left  without  feeling  better  for  having  seen  her. 
Her  face  was  made  of  heavenly  smiles,  and  her  voice 
of  tranquil  music. 

But,  alas !  this  kind  heart  had  but  a  short  time  to 
remain  such.  The  fatal  poison  of  irresponsible  power 
was  already  in  her  hands,  and  soon  commenced  its 
infernal  work.  That  cheerful  eye,  under  the  influence 
of  slavery,  soon  became  red  with  rage  ;  that  voice, 


LIFE  OF  FREDERICK  DOUGLASS.        33 

made  all  of  sweet  accord,  changed  to  one  of  harsh 
and  horrid  discord ;  and  that  angelic  face  gave  place 
to  that  of  a  demon. 

Very  soon  after  I  went  to  live  with  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Auld,  she  very  kindly  commenced  to  teach  me  the 
A,  B,  C.  After  I  had  learned  this,  she  assisted  me  in 
learning  to  spell  words  of  three  or  four  letters.  Just 
at  this  point  of  my  progress,  Mr.  Auld  found  out  what 
was  going  on,  and  at  once  forbade  Mrs.  Auld  to  instruct 
me  further,  telling  her,  among  other  things,  that  it  was 
unlawful,  as  well  as  unsafe,  to  teach  a  slave  to  read. 
To  use  his  own  words,  further,  he  said,  "  If  you  give  a 
nigger  an  inch,  he  will  take  an  ell.  A  nigger  should 
know  nothing  but  to  obey  his  master  —  to  do  as  he  is 
told  to  do.  Learning  would  spoil  the  best  nigger  in 
the  world.  Now,"  said  he,  "  if  you  teach  that  nigger 
(speaking  of  myself)  how  to  read,  there  would  be  no 
keeping  him.  It  would  forever  unfit  him  to  be  a  slave. 
He  would  at  once  become  unmanageable,  and  of  no 
value  to  his  master.  As  to  himself,  it  could  do  him  no 
good,  but  a  great  deal  of  harm.  It  would  make  him 
discontented  and  unhappy."  These  words  sank  deep 
into  my  heart,  stirred  up  sentiments  within  that  lay 
slumbering,  and  called  into  existence  an  entirely  new 
train  of  thought.  It  was  a  new  and  special  revelation, 
explaining  dark  and  mysterious  things,  with  which  my 
youthful  understanding  had  struggled,  but  struggled  in 
vain.  I  now  understood  what  had  been  to  me  a  most 
perplexing  difficulty  —  to  wit,  the  white  man's  power  to 
enslave  the  black  man.  It  was  a  grand  achievement, 
and  I  prized  it  highly.  From  that  moment,  I  under- 
stood the  pathway  from  slavery  to  freedom.  It  was 
3 


34 


NARRATIVE    OF   THE 


just  what  I  wanted,  and  I  got  it  at  a  time  when  I  the 
least  expected  it.  Whilst  I  was  saddened  by  the 
thought  of  losing  the  aid  of  my  kind  mistress,  I  was 
gladdened  by  the  invaluable  instruction  which,  by  the 
merest  accident,  I  had  gained  from  my  master. 
Though  conscious  of  the  difficulty  of  learning  without 
a  teacher,  I  set  out  with  high  hope,  and  a  fixed  pur- 
pose, at  whatever  cost  of  trouble,  to  learn  how  to  read. 
The  very  decided  manner  with  which  he  spoke,  and 
strove  to  impress  his  wife  with  the  evil  consequences 
of  giving  me  instruction,  served  to  convince  me  that 
he  was  deeply  sensible  of  the  truths  he  was  uttering. 
It  gave  me  the  best  assurance  that  I  might  rely  with 
the  utmost  confidence  on  the  results  which,  he  said, 
would  flow  from  teaching  me  to  read.  What  he  most 
dreaded,  that  I  most  desired.  What  he  most  loved, 
that  I  most  hated.  That  which  to  him  was  a  great 
evil,  to  be  carefully  shunned,  was  to  me  a  great  good, 
to  be  diligently  sought ;  and  the  argument  which  he  so 
warmly  urged,  against  my  learning  to  read,  only  served 
to  inspire  me  with  a  desire  and  determination  to  learn. 
In  learning  to  read,  I  owe  almost  as  much  to  the  bitter 
opposition  of  my  master,  as  to  the  kindly  aid  of  my 
mistress.  I  acknowledge  the  benefit  of  both. 

I  had  resided  but  a  short  time  in  Baltimore  before  I 
observed  a  marked  difference,  in  the  treatment  of 
slaves,  from  that  which  I  had  witnessed  in  the  country. 
A  city  slave  is  almost  a  freeman,  compared  with  a 
slave  on  the  plantation.  He  is  much  better  fed  and 
clothed,  and  enjoys  privileges  altogether  unknown  to 
the  slave  on  the  plantation.  There  is  a  vestige  of  de- 
cency, a  sense  of  shame,  that  does  much  to  curb  and 


LIFE    OF    FREDERICK    DOUGLASS.  35 

check  those  outbreaks  of  atrocious  cruelty  so  com- 
monly enacted  upon  the  plantation.  He  is  a  desperate 
slaveholder,  who  wilt  shock  the  humanity  of  his  non- 
slaveholding  neighbors  with  the  cries  of  his  lacerated 
slave.  Few  are  willing  to  incur  the  odium  attaching  to 
the  reputation  of  being  a  cruel  master ;  and  above  all 
things,  they  would  not  be  known  as  not  giving  a  slave 
enough  to  eat.  Every  city  slaveholder  is  anxious  to 
have  it  known  of  him,  that  he  feeds  his  slaves  well ; 
and  it  is  due  to  them  to  say,  that  most  of  them  do  give 
their  slaves  enough  to  eat.  There  are,  however,  some 
painful  exceptions  to  this  rule.  Directly  opposite  to  us, 
on  Philpot  Street,  lived  Mr.  Thomas  Hamilton.  He 
owned  two  slaves.  Their  names  were  Henrietta  and 
Mary.  Henrietta  was  about  twenty-two  years  of  age, 
Mary  was  about  fourteen ;  and  of  all  the  mangled  and 
emaciated  creatures  I  ever  looked  upon,  these  two 
were  the  most  so.  His  heart  must  be  harder  than 
stone,  that  could  look  upon  these  unmoved.  The  head, 
neck,  and  shoulders  of  Mary  were  literally  cut  to 
pieces.  I  have  frequently  felt  her  head,  and  found 
it  nearly  covered  with  festering  sores,  caused  by  the 
lash  of  her  cruel  mistress.  I  do  not  know  that  her 
master  ever  whipped  her,  but  I  have  been  an  eye-witness 
to  the  cruelty  of  Mrs.  Hamilton.  I  used  to  be  in  Mr. 
Hamilton's  house  nearly  every  day.  Mrs.  Hamilton 
used  to  sit  in  a  large  chair  in  the  middle  of  the  room, 
with  a  heavy  cowskin  always  by  her  side,  and  scarce 
an  hour  passed  during  the  day  but  was  marked  by  the 
blood  of  one  of  these  slaves.  The  girls  seldom  passed 
her  without  her  saying,  "  Move  faster,  you  black  gip  I " 
at  the  same  time  giving  them  a  blow  with  the  cow- 


36  NARRATIVE    OF    THE 

skin  over  the  head  or  shoulders,  often  drawing  the 
blood.  She  would  then  say,  "  Take  that,  you  Hack 
gip  !  "  —  continuing,  "  If  you  don't  move  faster,  I'll 
move  you ! "  Added  to  the  cruel  lashings  to  which 
these  slaves  were  subjected,  they  were  kept  nearly 
half-starved.  They  seldom  knew  what  it  was  to  eat  a 
full  meal.  I  have  seen  Mary  contending  with  the  pigs 
for  the  offal  thrown  into  the  street.  So  much  was 
Mary  kicked  and  cut  to  pieces,  that  she  was  oftener 
called  "pecked"  than  by  her  name. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

I  LIVED  in  Master  Hugh's  family  about  seven  years. 
During  this  time,  I  succeeded  in  learning  to  read  and 
write.  In  accomplishing  this,  I  was  compelled  to  resort, 
to  various  stratagems.  I  had  no  regular  teacher.  My 
mistress,  who  had  kindly  commenced  to  instruct  me, 
had,  in  compliance  with  the  advice  and  direction  of  her 
husband,  not  only  ceased  to  instruct,  but  had  set  her 
face  against  my  being  instructed  by  any  one  else.  It 
is  due,  however,  to  my  mistress  to  say  of  her,  that  she 
did  not  adopt  this  course  of  treatment  immediately. 
She  at  first  lacked  the  depravity  indispensable  to  shut- 
ting me  up  in  mental  darkness.  It  was  at  least  neces- 
sary for  her  to  have  some  training  in  the  exercise  of 
irresponsible  power,  to  make  her  equal  to  the  task  of 
treating  me  as  though  I  were  a  brute. 


UFE  OF  FREDERICK  DOUGLASS.         3? 

My  mistress  was,  as  I  have  said,  a  kind  and  tender- 
hearted woman  ;  and  in  the  simplicity  of  her  soul  she 
commenced,  when  I  first  went  to  live  with  her,  to  treat 
me  as  she  supposed  one  human  being  ought  to  treat 
another.  In  entering  upon  the  duties  of  a  slaveholder, 
she  did  not  seem  to  perceive  that  I  sustained  to  her  the 
relation  of  a  mere  chattel,  and  that  for  her  to  treat  me 
as  a  human  being  was  not  only  wrong,  but  dangerously 
so.  Slavery  proved  as  injurious  to  her  as  it  did  to  me. 
When  I  went  there,  she  was  a  pious,  warm,  and  ten- 
der-hearted woman.  There  was  no  sorrow  or  suffer- 
ing for  which  she  had  not  a  tear.  She  had  bread  for 
the  hungry,  clothes  for  the  naked,  and  comfort  for 
every  mourner  that  "came  within  her  reach.  Slavery 
soon  proved  its  ability  to  divest  her  of  these  heavenly 
qualities.  Under  its  influence,  the  tender  heart  became 
stone,  and  the  lamblike  disposition  gave  way  to  one  of 
tiger-like  fierceness.  The  first  step  in  her  downward 
course  was  in  her  ceasing  to  instruct  me.  She  now 
commenced  to  practise  her  husband's  precepts.  She 
finally  became  even  more  violent  in  her  opposition 
than  her  husband  himself.  She  was  not  satisfied  with 
simply  doing  as  well  as  he  had  commanded ;  she 
seemed  anxious  to  do  better.  Nothing  seemed  to 
make  her  more  angry  than  to  see  me  with  a  news- 
paper. She  seemed  to  think  that  here  lay  the  danger. 
I  have  had  her  rush  at  me  with  a  face  made  all  up  of 
fury,  and  snatch  from  me  a  newspaper,  in  a  manner 
that  fully  revealed  her  apprehension.  She  was  an  apt 
woman ;  and  a  little  experience  soon  demonstrated,  to 
her  satisfaction,  that  education  and  slavery  were  in- 
compatible with  each  other. 


38  NARRATIVE    OF   THE 

From  this  time  I  was  most  narrowly  watched.  If  1 
was  in  a  separate  room  any  considerable  length  of  time, 
I  was  sure  to  be  suspected  of  having  a  book,  and  was 
at  once  called  to  give  an  account  of  myself.  All  this, 
however,  was  too  late.  The  first  step  had  been  taken. 
Mistress,  in  teaching  me  the  alphabet,  had  given  me  the 
inch,  and  no  precaution  could  prevent  me  from  taking 
the  ell 

The  plan  which  I  adopted,  and  the  one  by  which  I 
was  most  successful,  was  that  of  making  friends  of  all 
the  little  white  boys  whom  I  met  in  the  street.  As 
many  of  these  as  I  could,  I  converted  into  teachers. 
With  their  kindly  aid,  obtained  at  different  times  and 
in  different  places,  I  finally  succeeded  in  learning  to 
read.  When  I  was  sent  of  errands,  I  always  took  my 
book  with  me,  and  by  going  one  part  of  my  errand 
quickly,  I  found  time  to  get  a  lesson  before  my  return. 
I  used  also  to  carry  bread  with  me,  enough  of  which 
was  always  in  the  house,  and  to  which  I  was  always 
welcome ;  for  I  was  much  better  off  in  this  regard  than 
many  of  the  poor  white  children  in  our  neighborhood. 
This  bread  I  used  to  bestow  upon  the  hungry  little 
urchins,  who,  in  return,  would  give  me  that  more  valu- 
able bread  of  knowledge.  I  am  strongly  tempted  to 
give  the  names  of  two  or  three  of  those  little  boys,  as 
a  testimonial  of  the  gratitude  and  affection  I  bear  them ; 
but  prudence  forbids ;  —  not  that  it  would  injure  me, 
but  it  might  embarrass  them ;  for  it  is  almost  an  unpar- 
donable offence  to  teach  slaves  to  read  in  this  Christian 
country.  It  is  enough  to  say  of  the  dear  little  fellows, 
that  they  lived  on  Philpot  Street,  very  near  Durgin  and 
Bailey's  ship-yard.  I  used  to  talk  this  matter  of  slavery 


LIFE  OP  FREDERICK  DOUGLASS.         39 

over  with  them.  I  would  sometimes  say  to  them,  I 
wished  I  could  be  as  free  as  they  would  be  when  they 
got  to  be  men.  "  You  will  be  free  as  soon  as  you  are 
twenty-one,  but  I  am  a  slave  for  life  !  Have  not  I  as 
good  a  right  to  be  free  as  you  have  ?  "  These  words 
used  to  trouble  them ;  they  would  express  for  me  the 
liveliest  sympathy,  and  console  me  with  the  hope  that 
something  would  occur  by  which  I  might  be  free. 

I  was  now  about  twelve  years  old,  and  the  thought 
of  being  a  slave  for  life  began  to  bear  heavily  upon 
my  heart.  Just  about  this  time,  I  got  hold  of  a  book  en- 
titled "  The  Columbian  Orator."  Every  opportunity 
I  got,  I  used  to  read  this  book.  Among  much  of  other 
interesting  matter,  I  found  in  it  a  dialogue  between  a 
master  and  his  slave.  The  slave  was  represented  as 
having  run  away  from  his  master  three  times.  The 
dialogue  represented  the  conversation  which  took  place 
between  them,  when  the  slave  was  retaken  the  third 
time.  In  this  dialogue,  the  whole  argument  in  behalf 
of  slavery  was  brought  forward  by  the  master,  all  of 
which  was  disposed  of  by  the  slave.  The  slave  was 
made  to  say  some  very  smart  as  well  as  impressive 
things  in  reply  to  his  master — things  which  had  the 
desired  though  unexpected  effect ;  for  the  conversation 
resulted  in  the  voluntary  emancipation  of  the  slave  on 
the  part  of  the  master. 

In  the  same  book,  I  met  with  one  of  Sheridan's 
mighty  speeches  on  and  in  behalf  of  Catholic  eman- 
cipation. These  were  choice  documents  to  me.  I 
read  them  over  and  over  again  with  unabated  interest. 
They  gave  tongue  to  interesting  thoughts  of  my  own 
soul,  which  had  frequently  flashed  through  my  mind, 


40  NARRATIVE    OF    THE 

and  died  away  for  want  of  utterance.  The  mora, 
which  I  gained  from  the  dialogue  was  the  power  of 
truth  over  the  conscience  of  even  a  slaveholder.  What 
I  got  from  Sheridan  was  a  bold  denunciation  of 
slavery,  and  a  powerful  vindication  of  human  rights. 
The  reading  of  these  documents  enabled  me  to  utter 
my  thoughts,  and  to  meet  the  arguments  brought  for- 
ward to  sustain  slavery  ;  but  while  they  relieved  me 
of  one  difficulty,  they  brought  on  another  even  more 
painful  than  the  one  of  which  I  was  relieved.  The  more 
I  read,  the  more  I  was  led  to  abhor  and  detest  my  en- 
slavers. I  could  regard  them  in  no  other  light  than  a 
band  of  successful  robbers,  who  had  left  their  homes, 
and  gone  to  Africa,  and  stolen  us  from  our  homes,  and 
in  a  strange  land  reduced  us  to  slavery.  I  loathed 
them  as  being  the  meanest  as  well  as  the  most  wicked 
of  men.  As  I  read  and  contemplated  the  subject,  be- 
hold !  that  very  discontentment  which  Master  Hugh  had 
predicted  would  follow  my  learning  to  read  had  already 
come,  to  torment  and  sting  my  soul  to  unutterable 
anguish.  As  I  writhed  under  it,  I  would  at  times  feel 
that  learning  to  read  had  been  a  curse  rather  than  a 
blessing.  It  had  given  me  a  view  of  my  wretched 
condition,  without  the  remedy.  It  opened  my  eyes  to 
the  horrible  pit,  but  to  no  ladder  upon  which  to  get  out. 
In  moments  of  agony,  I  envied  my  fellow-slaves  for 
their  stupidity.  I  have  often  wished  myself  a  beast. 
I  preferred  the  condition  of  the  meanest  reptile  to  my 
own.  Any  thing,  no  matter  what,  to  get  rid  of  think- 
ing !  It  was  this  everlasting  thinking  of  my  condition 
that  tormented  me.  There  was  no  getting  rid  of  it. 
It  was  pressed  upon  me  by  every  object  within  sight  or 


LIFE  OF  FREDERICK  DOUGLASS.         41 

hearing,  animate  or  inanimate.  The  silver  trump  of 
freedom  had  roused  my  soul  to  eternal  wakefulness. 
Freedom  now  appeared,  to  disappear  no  more  forever. 
It  was  heard  in  every  sound,  and  seen  in  every  thing. 
It  was  ever  present  to  torment  me  with  a  sense  of  my 
wretched  condition.  I  saw  nothing  without  seeing  it, 
I  heard  nothing  without  hearing  it,  and  felt  nothing 
without  feeling  it.  It  looked  from  every  star,  it  smiled 
in  every  calm,  breathed  in  every  wind,  and  moved  in 
every  storm. 

I  often  found  myself  regretting  my  own  existence, 
and  wishing  myself  dead ;  and  but  for  the  hope  of 
being  free,  I  have  no  doubt  but  that  I  should  have 
killed  myself,  or  done  something  for  which  I  should 
have  been  killed.  While  in  this  state  of  mind,  I  was 
eager  to  hear  any  one  speak  of  slavery.  I  was  a  ready 
listener.  Every  little  while,  I  could  hear  something 
about  the  abolitionists.  It  was  some  time  before  I  found 
what  the  word  meant.  It  was  always  used  in  such 
connections  as  to  make  it  an  interesting  word  to  me. 
If  a  slave  ran  away  and  succeeded  in  getting  clear,  or 
if  a  slave  killed  his  master,  set  fire  to  a  barn,  or  did 
any  thing  very  wrong  in  the  mind  of  a  slaveholder,  it 
was  spoken  of  as  the  fruit  of  abolition.  Hearing  the 
word  in  this  connection  very  often,  I  set  about  learning 
what  it  meant.  The  dictionary  afforded  me  little  or  no 
help.  I  found  it  was  u  the  act  of  abolishing ; "  but 
then  I  did  not  know  what  was  to  be  abolished.  Here 
I  was  perplexed.  I  did  not  dare  to  ask  any  one  about 
its  meaning,  for  I  was  satisfied  that  it  was  something 
they  wanted  me  to  know  very  little  about.  After  a 
patient  waiting,  I  got  one  of  our  city  papers,  contain- 


42  NARRATIVE    OF    THE 

ing  an  account  of  the  number  of  petitions  from  the 
north,  praying  for  the  abolition  of  slavery  in  the  Dis- 
trict of  Columbia,  arid  of  the  slave  trade  between  the 
States.  From  this  time  I  understood  the  words  abo- 
lition and  abolitionist,  and  always  drew  near  when 
that  word  was  spoken,  expecting  to  hear  something  of 
importance  to  myself  and  fellow-slaves.  The  light 
broke  in  upon  me  by  degrees.  I  went  one  day  down 
on  the  wharf  of  Mr.  Waters ;  and  seeing  two  Irishmen 
unloading  a  scow  of  stone,  I  went,  unasked,  and  helped 
them.  When  we  had  finished,  one  of  them  came  to  me 
and  asked  me  if  I  were  a  slave.  I  told  him  I  was.  He 
asked,  "  Are  ye  a  slave  for  life  ?  "  I  told  him  that  I 
was.  The  good  Irishman  seemed  to  be  deeply  affected 
by  the  statement.  He  said  to  the  other  that  it  was  a 
pity  so  fine  a  little  fellow  as  myself  should  be  a  slave 
for  life.  He  said  it  was  a  shame  to  hold  me.  They 
both  advised  me  to  run  away  to  the  north ;  that  I  should 
find  friends  there,  and  that  I  should  be  free.  I  pre- 
tended not  to  be  interested  in  what  they  said,  and 
treated  them  as  if  I  did  not  understand  them ;  for  I 
feared  they  might  be  treacherous.  White  men  have 
been  known  to  encourage  slaves  to  escape,  and  then, 
to  get  the  reward,  catch  them  and  return  them  to  their 
masters.  I  was  afraid  that  these  seemingly  good  men 
might  use  me  so ;  but  I  nevertheless  remembered 
their  advice,  and  from  that  time  I  resolved  to  run 
away.  I  looked  forward  to  a  time  at  which  it  would 
be  safe  for  me  to  escape.  I  was  too  young  to  think  of 
doing  so  immediately  ;  besides,  I  wished  to  learn  how 
to  write,  as  I  might  have  occasion  to  write  my  own 
oass.  I  consoled  myself  with  the  hope  that  I  should 


LIFE    OF    FREDERICK    DOT/GLASS.  43 

one   day  find   a   good   chance.     Meanwhile,  I  would 
learn  to  write. 

The  idea  as  to  how  I  might  learn  to  write  was  sug- 
gested to  me  by  being  in  Durgin  and  Bailey's  ship- 
yard,  and  frequently  seeing  the  ship  carpenters,  after 
hewing,  and  getting  a  piece  of  timber  ready  for  use, 
write  on  the  timber  the  name  of  that  part  of  the  ship 
for  which  it  was  intended.  When  a  piece  of  timber 
was  intended  for  the  larboard  side,  it  would  be  marked 
thus  —  "  L."  When  a  piece  was  for  the  starboard 
side,  it  would  be  marked  thus  —  "  S."  A  piece  for 
the  larboard  side  forward,  would  be  marked  thus  — 
"  L.  F."  When  a  piece  was  for  starboard  side  for- 
ward, it  would  be  marked  thus — "  S.  F."  For  lar- 
board aft,  it  would  be  marked  thus  —  "  L.  A."  For 
starboard  aft,  it  would  be  marked  thus  — "  S.  A."  1 
soon  learned  the  names  of  these  letters,  and  for  what 
they  were  intended  when  placed  upon  a  piece  of  tim- 
ber in  the  ship-yard.  I  immediately  commenced  copy- 
ing them,  and  in  a  short  time  was  able  to  make  the 
four  letters  named.  After  that,  when  I  met  with  any 
boy  who  I  knew  could  write,  I  would  tell  him  I  could 
write  as  well  as  he.  The  next  word  would  be,  "  I 
don't  believe  you.  Let  me  see  you  try  it."  I  would 
then  make  the  letters  which  I  had  been  so  fortunate  as 
to  learn,  and  ask  him  to  beat  that.  In  this  way  I  got 
a  good  many  lessons  in  writing,  which  it  is  quite  pos- 
sible I  should  never  have  gotten  in  any  other  way. 
During  this  time,  my  copy-book  was  the  board  fence, 
brick  wall,  and  pavement ;  my  pen  and  ink  was  a  lump 
of  chalk.  With  these,  I  learned  mainly  how  to  write. 
I  then  commenced  and  continued  copying  the  Italics  in 


44  NARRATIVE    OF    THE 

Webster's  Spelling  Book,  until  I  could  make  them  aU 
without  looking  on  the  book.  By  this  time,  my  little 
Master  Thomas  had  gone  to  school,  and  learned  how 
to  write,  and  had  written  over  a  number  of  copy-books. 
These  had  been  brought  home,  and  shown  to  some  of 
our  near  neighbors,  and  then  laid  aside.  My  mistress 
used  to  go  to  class  meeting  at  the  Wilk  Street  meeting- 
house every  Monday  afternoon,  and  leave  me  to  take 
care  of  the  house.  When  left  thus,  I  used  to  spend 
the  time  in  writing  in  the  spaces  left  in  Master 
Thomas's  copy-book,  copying  what  he  had  written.  I 
continued  to  do  this  until  I  could  write  a  hand  very 
similar  to  that  of  Master  Thomas.  Thus,  after  a  long, 
tedious  effort  for  years,  I  finally  succeeded  in  learning 
how  to  write. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

IN  a  very  short  time  after  I  went  to  live  at  Baltimore, 
my  old  master's  youngest  son  Richard  died;  and  in 
about  three  years  and  six  months  after  his  death,  my 
old  master,  Captain  Anthony,  died,  leaving  only  his 
son,  Andrew,  and  daughter,  Lucretia,  to  share  his 
estate.  He  died  while  on  a  visit  to  see  his  daughter  at 
Hillsborough.  Cut  off  thus  unexpectedly,  he  left  no 
will  as  to  the  disposal  of  his  property.  It  was  there- 
fore necessary  to  have  a  valuation  of  the  property, 
that  it  might  be  equally  divided  between  Mrs.  Lucretia 
and  Master  Andrew.  I  was  immediately  sent  for,  to 


LIFE  OF  FREDERICK  DOUGLASS.         45 

be  valued  with  the  other  property.  Here  again  my 
feelings  rose  up  in  detestation  of  slavery.  I  had  now 
a  new  conception  of  my  degraded  condition.  Prior 
to  this,  I  had  become,  if  not  insensible  to  my  lot,  at 
least  partly  so.  I  left  Baltimore  with  a  young  heart 
overborne  with  sadness,  and  a  soul  full  of  apprehen- 
sion. I  took  passage  with  Captain  Rowe,  in  the 
schooner  Wild  Cat,  and,  after  a  sail  of  about  twenty- 
four  hours,  I  found  myself  near  the  place  of  my  birth. 
I  had  now  been  absent  from  it  almost,  if  not  quite, 
five  years.  I,  however,  remembered  the  place  very 
well.  I  was  only  about  five  years  old  when  I  left  it, 
to  go  and  live  with  my  old  master  on  Colonel  Lloyd's 
plantation  ;  so  that  I  was  now  between  ten  and  eleven 
years  old. 

We  were  all  ranked  together  at  the  valuation. 
Men  and  women,  old  and  young,  married  and  single, 
were  ranked  with  horses,  sheep,  and  swine.  There 
were  horses  and  men,  cattle  and  women,  pigs  and 
children,  all  holding  the  same  rank  in  the  scale  of 
being,  and  were  all  subjected  to  the  same  narrow  ex- 
amination. Silvery-headed  age  and  sprightly  youth, 
maids  and  matrons,  had  to  undergo  the  same  indelicate 
inspection.  At  this  moment,  I  saw  more  clearly  than 
ever  the  brutalizing  effects  of  slavery  upon  both  slave 
and  slaveholder. 

After  the  valuation,  then  came  the  division.  I  have 
no  language  to  express  the  high  excitement  and  deep 
anxiety  which  were  felt  among  us  poor  slaves  during 
this  time.  Our  fate  for  life  was  now  to  be  decided. 
We  had  no  more  voice  in  that  decision  than  the  brutes 
among  whom  we  were  ranked.  A  single  word  from 


46  NARRATIVE    OP    THE 

the  white  men  was  enough  —  against  all  our  wishes, 
prayers,  and  entreaties  —  to  sunder  forever  the  dearest 
friends,  dearest  kindred,  and  strongest  ties  known  to 
human  beings.  In  addition  to  the  pain  of  separation, 
there  was  the  horrid  dread  of  falling  into  the  hands  of 
Master  Andrew.  He  was  known  to  us  all  as  being  a 
most  cruel  wretch,  —  a  common  drunkard,  who  had, 
by  his  reckless  mismanagement  and  profligate  dissipa- 
tion, already  wasted  a  large  portion  of  his  father's 
property.  We  all  felt  that  we  might  as  well  be  sold  at 
once  to  the  Georgia  traders,  as  to  pass  into  his  hands ; 
for  we  knew  that  that  would  be  our  inevitable  con- 
dition, —  a  condition  held  by  us  all  in  the  utmost  horror 
and  dread. 

I  suffered  more  anxiety  than  most  of  my  fellow- 
slaves.  I  had  known  what  it  was  to  be  kindly  treated  ; 
they  had  known  nothing  of  the  kind.  They  had  seen 
little  or  nothing  of  the  world.  They  were  in  very 
deed  men  and  women  of  sorrow,  and  acquainted  with 
grief.  Their  backs  had  been  made  familiar  with  the 
bloody  lash,  so  that  they  had  become  callous ;  mine 
was  yet  tender;  for  while  at  Baltimore  I  got  few 
whippings,  and  few  slaves  could  boast  of  a  kinder  mas- 
ter and  mistress  than  myself ;  and  the  thought  of  pass- 
ing out  of  their  hands  into  those  of  Master  Andrew  — 
a  man  who,  but  a  few  days  before,  to  give  me  a  sample 
of  his  bloody  disposition,  took  my  little  brother  by  the 
throat,  threw  him  on  the  ground,  and  with  the  heel  of 
his  boot  stamped  upon  his  head  till  the  blood  gushed 
from  his  nose  and  ears  —  was  well  calculated  to  make 
me  anxious  as  to  my  fate.  After  he  had  committed  this 
Ravage  outrage  upon  my  brother,  he  turned  to  me,  and 


LIFE    OF    FREDERICK    DOUGLASS.  41 

said  that  was  the  way  he  meant  to  serve  me  one  of 
these  days,  —  meaning,  I  suppose,  when  I  came  into 
his  possession. 

Thanks  to  a  kind  Providence,  I  fell  to  the  portion  of 
Mrs.  Lucretia,  and  was  sent  immediately  back  to  Balti- 
more, to  live  again  in  the  family  of  Master  Hugh. 
Their  joy  at  my  return  equalled  their  sorrow  at  my 
departure.  It  was  a  glad  day  to  me.  •  I  had  escaped 
a  worse  than  lion's  jaws.  I  was  absent  from  Baltimore, 
for  the  purpose  of  valuation  and  division,  just  about 
one  month,  and  it  seemed  to  have  been  six. 

Very  soon  after  my  return  to  Baltimore,  my  mistress, 
Lucretia,  died,  leaving  her  husband  and  one  child, 
Amanda ;  and  in  a  very  short  time  after  her  death, 
Master  Andrew  died.  Now  all  the  property  of  my  old 
master,  slaves  included,  was  in  the  hands  of  strangers, 

—  strangers  who  had  had  nothing  to  do  with  accumu- 
lating  it.     Not  a  slave  was  left  free.     All  remained 
slaves,  from  the  youngest  to  the  oldest.     If  any  one 
thing  in  my  experience,  more  than  another,  served  to 
deepen    my   conviction  of  the   infernal   character  of 
slavery,  and  to  fill  me  with   unutterable  loathing   of 
slaveholders,  it  was  their  base  ingratitude  to  my  poor 
old  grandmother.     She  had  served  my  old  master  faith- 
fully from  youth  to  old  age.     She  had  been  the  source 
of  all  his  wealth  ;  she  had  peopled  his  plantation  with 
slaves ;    she  had  become  a  great  grandmother  in  his 
service.     She  had  rocked  him  in  infancy,  attended  him 
in  childhood,  served  him  through  life,  and  at  his  death 
wiped  from  his  icy  brow  the  cold  death-sweat,  and  closed 
his  eyes  forever.     She  was  nevertheless  left  a  slave 

—  a  slave  for  life  —  a  slave  in  the  hands  of  strangers  ; 


40  NARRATIVE    OF    THE 

and  in  their  hands  she  saw  her  children,  her  grand- 
children, and  her  great-grandchildren,  divided,  like  so 
many  sheep,  without  being  gratified  with  the  small 
privilege  of  a  single  word,  as  to  their  or  her  own  des- 
tiny. And,  to  cap  the  climax  of  their  base  ingratitude 
and  fiendish  barbarity,  my  grandmother,  who  was  now 
very  old,  having  outlived  my  old  master  and  all  his 
children,  having  seen  the  beginning  and  end  of  all  of 
them,  and  her  present  owners  finding  she  was  of  but 
little  value,  her  frame  already  racked,  with  the  pains 
of  old  age,  and  complete  helplessness  fast  stealing 
over  her  once  active  limbs,  they  took  her  to  the  woods, 
built  her  a  little  hut,  put  up  a  little  mud-chimney,  and 
then  made  her  welcome  to  the  privilege  of  supporting 
herself  there  in  perfect  loneliness ;  thus  virtually  turn- 
ing her  out  to  die  !  If  my  poor  old  grandmother  now 
lives,  she  lives  to  suffer  in  utter  loneliness ;  she  lives  to 
remember  and  mourn  over  the  loss  of  children,  the 
loss  of  grandchildren,  and  the  loss  of  great-grandchil- 
dren. They  are,  in  the  language  of  the  slave's  poet, 
Whittier,  — 

"  Gone,  gone,  sold  and  gone 

To  the  rice  swamp  dank  and  lone, 

Where  the  slave-whip  ceaseless  swings, 

Where  the  noisome  insect  stings, 

Where  the  fever-demon  strews 

Poison  with  the  falling  dews, 

Where  the  sickly  sunbeams  glare 

Through  the  hot  and  misty  air  :  — 
Gone,  gone,  sold  and  gone 
To  the  rice  swamp  dank  and  lone, 
From  Virginia  hills  and  waters  — 
Woe  is  me,  my  stolen  daughters '  " 


LIFE  OF  FREDERICK  DOUGLASS.         49 

The  hearth  is  desolate.  The  children,  the  uncon- 
scious children,  who  once  sang  and  danced  in  her 
presence,  are  gone.  She  gropes  her  way,  in  the  dark- 
ness of  age,  for  a  drink  of  water.  Instead  of  the  voices 
of  her  children,  she  hears  by  day  the  moans  of  the  dove, 
and  by  night  the  screams  of  the  hideous  owl.  All  is 
gloom.  The  grave  is  at  the  door.  And  now,  when 
weighed  down  by  the  pains  and  aches  of  old  age,  when 
the  head  inclines  to  the  feet,  when  the  beginning  and 
ending  of  human  existence  meet,  and  helpless  infancy 
and  painful  old  age  combine  together  —  at  this  time,  this 
most  needful  time,  the  time  for  the  exercise  of  that  ten- 
derness and  affection  which  children  only  can  exercise 
towards  a  declining  parent  —  my  poor  old  grandmother, 
the  devoted  mother  of  twelve  children,  is  left  all  alone, 
in  yonder  little  hut,  before  a  few  dim  embers.  She 
stands  —  she  sits  —  she  staggers  —  she  falls  —  she 
groans  —  she  dies  —  and  there  are  none  of  her  chil- 
dren or  grandchildren  present,  to  wipe  from  her 
wrinkled  brow  the  cold  sweat  of  death,  or  to  place 
beneath  the  sod  her  fallen  remains.  Will  not  a  right- 
eous God  visit  for  these  things  ? 

In  about  two  years  after  the  death  of  Mrs.  Lucretia, 
Master  Thomas  married  his  second  wife.  Her  name 
was  Rowena  Hamilton.  She  was  the  eldest  daughter 
of  Mr.  William  Hamilton.  Master  now  lived  in  St. 
Michael's.  Not  long  after  his  marriage,  a  misunder- 
standing took  place  between  himself  and  Master  Hugh; 
and  as  a  means  of  punishing  his  brother,  he  took  me 
from  him  to  live  with  himself  at  St.  Michael's.  Here  I 
underwent  another  most  painful  separation.  It,  how- 
ever, was  not  so  severe  as  the  one  I  dreaded  at  the 
4 


50  NARRATIVE    OF    THE 

division  of  property ;  for,  during  this  interval,  a  great 
change  had  taken  place  in  Master  Hugh  and  his  once 
kind  and  affectionate  wife.  The  influence  of  brandy 
upon  him,  and  of  slavery  upon  her,  had  effected  a  dis- 
astrous change  in  the  characters  of  both ;  so  that,  as 
far  as  they  were  concerned,  I  thought  I  had  little  to 
lose  by  the  change.  But  it  was  not  to  them  that  I 
was  attached.  It  was  to  those  little  Baltimore  boys 
that  I  felt  the  strongest  attachment.  I  had  received 
many  good  lessons  from  them,  and  was  still  receiving 
them,  and  the  thought  of  leaving  them  was  painful 
indeed.  I  was  leaving,  too,  without  the  hope  of  ever 
being  allowed  to  return.  Master  Thomas  had  said  he 
would  never  let  me  return  again.  The  barrier  betwixt 
himself  and  brother  he  considered  impassable. 

I  then  had  to  regret  that  I  did  not  at  least  make  the 
attempt  to  carry  out  my  resolution  to  run  away ;  for 
the  chances  of  success  are  tenfold  greater  from  the 
city  than  from  the  country. 

I  sailed  from  Baltimore  for  St.  Michael's  in  the  sloop 
Amanda,  Captain  Edward  Dodson.  On  my  passage,  I 
paid  particular  attention  to  the  direction  which  the 
steamboats  took  to  go  to  Philadelphia.  I  found,  instead 
of  going  down,  on  reaching  North  Point  they  went  up 
the  bay,  in  a  north-easterly  direction.  I  deemed  this 
knowledge  of  the  utmost  importance.  My  determina- 
tion to  run  away  was  again  revived.  I  resolved  to 
wait  only  so  long  as  the  offering  of  a  favorable  oppor- 
tunity. When  that  came,  I  was  determined  to  be  off. 


LIFE  OF  FREDERICK  DOUGLASS.         51 


CHAPTER  IX. 

1  HAVE  now  reached  a  period  of  my  life  when  I  can 
give  dates.  I  left  Baltimore,  and  went  to  live  with 
Master  Thomas  Auld,  at  St.  Michael's,  in  March,  1832. 
It  was  now  more  than  seven  years  since  I  lived  with 
him  in  the  family  of  my  old  master,  on  Colonel  Lloyd's 
plantation.  We  of  course  were  now  almost  entire 
strangers  to  each  other.  He  was  to  me  a  new  master, 
and  I  to  him  a  new  slave.  I  was  ignorant  of  his  tem- 
per and  disposition ;  he  was  equally  so  of  mine.  A 
very  short  time,  however,  brought  us  into  full  acquaint- 
ance with  each  other.  I  was  made  acquainted  with 
his  wife  not  less  than  with  himself.  They  were  well 
matched,  being  equally  mean  and  cruel.  I  was  now, 
for  the  first  time  during  a  space  of  more  than  seven 
years,  made  to  feel  the  painful  gnawings  of  hunger  — 
a  something  which  I  had  not  experienced  before  since 
I  left  Colonel  Lloyd's  plantation.  It  went  hard  enough 
with  me  then,  when  I  could  look  back  to  no  period  at 
which  I  had  enjoyed  a  sufficiency.  It  was  tenfold 
harder  after  living  in  Master  Hugh's  family,  where  I 
had  always  had  enough  to  eat,  and  of  that  which  was 
good.  I  have  said  Master  Thomas  was  a  mean  man. 
He  was  so.  Not  to  give  a  slave  enough  to  eat,  is  re- 
garded as  the  most  aggravated  development  of  mean- 
ness  even  among  slaveholders.  The  rule  is,  no  mat- 
ter how  coarse  the  food,  only  let  there  be  enough  of  it. 
This  is  the  theory ;  and  in  the  part  of  Maryland  from 
which  I  came,  it  is  the  general  practice,  —  though 


52  NARRATIVE    OF    THE 

there  are  many  exceptions.  Master  Thomas  gave  us 
enough  of  neither  coarse  nor  fine  food.  There  were 
four  slaves  of  us  in  the  kitchen  —  my  sister  Eliza, 
my  aunt  Priscilla,  Henny,  and  myself;  and  we  were 
allowed  less  than  a  half  of  a  bushel  of  corn-meal  per 
week,  and  very  little  else,  either  in  the  shape  of  meat 
or  vegetables.  It  was  not  enough  for  us  to  subsist 
upon.  We  were  therefore  reduced  to  the  wretched 
necessity  of  living  at  the  expense  of  our  neighbors. 
This  we  did  by  begging  and  stealing,  whichever  came 
handy  in  the  time  of  need,  the  one  being  considered  as 
legitimate  as  the  other.  A  great  many  times  have  we 
poor  creatures  been  nearly  perishing  with  hunger, 
when  food  in  abundance  lay  mouldering  in  the  safe 
and  smoke-house,  and  our  pious  mistress  was  aware  of 
the  fact ;  and  yet  that  mistress  and  her  husband  would 
kneel  every  morning,  and  pray  that  God  would  bless 
them  in  basket  and  store ! 

Bad  as  all  slaveholders  are,  we  seldom  meet  one 
destitute  of  every  element  of  character  commanding 
respect.  My  master  was  one  of  this  rare  sort.  I  do 
not  know  of  one  single  noble  act  ever  performed  by 
him.  The  leading  trait  in  his  character  was  meanness ; 
and  if  there  were  any  other  element  in  his  nature,  it 
was  made  subject  to  this.  He  was  mean ;  and,  like 
most  other  mean  men,  he  lacked  the  ability  to  conceal 
his  meanness.  Captain  Auld  was  not  born  a  slave- 
holder. He  had  been  a  poor  man,  master  only  of  a 
Bay  craft.  He  came  into  possession  of  all  his  slaves 
by  marriage ;  and  of  all  men,  adopted  slaveholders 
are  the  worst.  He  was  cruel,  but  cowardly.  He 
commanded  without  firmness.  In  the  enforcement  of 


LIFE    OF    FREDERICK    DOUGLASS.  53 

his  rules,  he  was  at  times  rigid,  and  at  times  lax.  At 
times,  he  spoke  to  his  slaves  with  the  firmness  of  Na- 
poleon and  the  fury  of  a  demon ;  at  other  times,  he 
might  well  be  mistaken  for  an  inquirer  who  had  lost 
his  way.  He  did  nothing  of  himself.  He  might  have 
passed  for  a  lion,  but  for  his  ears.  In  all  things  noble 
which  he  attempted,  his  own  meanness  shone  most 
conspicuous.  His  airs,  words,  and  actions,  were  the 
airs,  words,  and  actions  of  born  slaveholders,  and, 
being  assumed,  were  awkward  enough.  He  was  not 
even  a  good  imitator.  He  possessed  all  the  disposition 
to  deceive,  but  wanted  the  power.  Having  no  re- 
sources within  himself,  he  was  compelled  to  be  the 
copyist  of  many,  and  being  such,  he  was  forever  the 
victim  of  inconsistency  ;  and  of  consequence  he  was  an 
object  of  contempt,  and  was  held  as  such  even  by  his 
slaves.  The  luxury  of  having  slaves  of  his  own  to 
wait  upon  him  was  something  new  and  unprepared  for. 
He  was  a  slaveholder  without  the  ability  to  hold  slaves. 
He  found  himself  incapable  of  managing  his  slaves 
either  by  force,  fear,  or  fraud.  We  seldom  called  him 
"  master  ;  "  we  generally  called  him  "  Captain  Auld," 
and  were  hardly  disposed  to  title  him  at  all.  I  doubt 
not  that  our  conduct  had  much  to  do  with  making  him 
appear  awkward,  and  of  consequence  fretful.  Our 
want  of  -reverence  for  him  must  have  perplexed  him 
greatly.  He  wished  to  have  us  call  him  master,  but 
lacked  the  firmness  necessary  to  command  us  to  do  so. 
His  wife  used  to  insist  upon  our  calling  him  so,  but  to 
no  purpose.  In  August,  1832,  my  master  attended  a 
Methodist  camp-meeting  held  in  the  Bay-side,  Talbo? 
county,  and  there  experienced  religion.  I  indulged  a 


54  NARRATIVE    OF   THE 

faint  hope  that  his  conversion  would  lead  him  to  emanci- 
pate his  slaves,  and  that,  if  he  did  not  do  this,  it  would, 
at  any  rate,  make  him  more  kind  and  humane.  I  was 
disappointed  in  both  these  respects.  It  neither  made 
him  to  be  humane  to  his  slaves,  nor  to  emancipate  them. 
If  it  had  any  effect  on  his  character,  it  made  him  more 
cruel  and  hateful  in  all  his  ways ;  for  I  believe  him  to 
have  been  a  much  worse  man  after  his  conversion  than 
before.  Prior  to  his  conversion,  he  relied  upon  his 
own  depravity  to  shield  and  sustain  him  in  his  savage 
barbarity ;  but  after  his  conversion,  he  found  religious 
sanction  and  support  for  his  slaveholding  cruelty.  He 
made  the  greatest  pretensions  to  piety.  His  house  was 
the  house  of  prayer.  He  prayed  morning,  noon,  and 
night.  He  very  soon  distinguished  himself  among 
his  brethren,  and  was  soon  made  a  class-leader  and 
exhorter.  His  activity  in  revivals  was  great,  and 
he  proved  himself  an  instrument  in  the  hands  of  the 
church  in  converting  many  souls.  His  house  was  the 
preachers'  home.  They  used  to  take  great  pleasure 
in  coming  there  to  put  up  ;  for  while  he  starved  us,  he 
stuffed  them.  We  have  had  three  or  four  preachers 
there  at  a  time.  The  names  of  those  who  used  to 
come  most  frequently  while  I  lived  there,  were  Mr. 
Storks,  Mr.  Ewery,  Mr.  Humphry,  and  Mr.  Hickey. 
I  have  also  seen  Mr.  George  Cookman  at  our  house. 
We  slaves  loved  Mr.  Cookman.  We  believed  him  to 
be  a  good  man.  We  thought  him  instrumental  in  get- 
ting Mr.  Samuel  Harrison,  a  very  rich  slaveholder,  to 
emancipate  his  slaves ;  and  by  some  means  got  the  im- 
pression that  he  was  laboring  to  effect  the  emancipa- 
tion of  all  the  slaves.  When  he  was  at  our  house,  we 


LIFE  OF  FREDERICK  DOUGLASS.         55 

were  sure  to  be  called  in  to  prayers.  When  the  others 
were  there,  we  were  sometimes  called  in  and  some- 
times not.  Mr.  Cookman  took  more  notice  of  us  than 
either  of  the  other  ministers.  He  could  not  come 
among  us  without  betraying  his  sympathy  for  us,  and, 
stupid  as  we  were,  we  had  the  sagacity  to  see  it. 

While  I  lived  with  my  master  in  St.  Michael's,  there 
was  a  white  young  man,  a  Mr.  Wilson,  who  proposed 
to  keep  a  Sabbath  school  for  the  instruction  of  such 
slaves  as  might  be  disposed  to  learn  to  read  the  New 
Testament.  We  met  but  three  times,  when  Mr.  West 
and  Mr.  Fairbanks,  both  class-leaders,  with  many 
others,  came  upon  us  with  sticks  and  other  missiles, 
drove  us  off,  and  forbade  us  to  meet  again.  Thus 
ended  our  little  Sabbath  school  in  the  pious  town  of 
St.  Michael's. 

I  have  said  my  master  found  religious  sanction  for 
his  cruelty.  As  an  example,  I  will  state  one  of  many 
facts  going  to  prove  the  charge.  I  have  seen  him  tie 
up  a  lame  young  woman,  and  whip  her  with  a  heavy 
cowskin  upon  her  naked  shoulders,  causing  the  warm 
red  blood  to  drip  ;  and,  in  justification  of  the  bloody 
deed,  he  would  quote  this  passage  of  Scripture  —  "  He 
that  knoweth  his*  master's -will,  and  doeth  it  not,  shall 
be  beaten  with  many  stripes." 

Master  would  keep  this  lacerated  young  woman  tied 
up  in  this  horrid  situation  four  or  five  hours  at  a  time. 
1  have  known  him  to  tie  her  up  early  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  whip  her  before  breakfast;  leave  her,  go 
to  his  store,  return  at  dinner,  and  whip  her  again, 
cutting  her  in  the  places  already  made  raw  with  his 
cruel  lash.  The  secret  of  master's  cruelty  toward 


56  NARRATIVE    OF   THE 

*  Henny  "  is  found  in  the  fact  of  her  being  almost 
helpless.  When  quite  a  child,  she  fell  into  the  fire, 
and  burned  herself  horribly.  Her  hands  were  so  burnt 
that  she  never  got  the  use  of  them.  She  could  do  very 
little  but  bear  heavy  burdens.  She  was  to  master  a 
bill  of  expense  ;  and  as  he  was  a  mean  man,  she  was  a 
constant  offence  to  him.  He  seemed  desirous  of  get- 
ting the  poor  girl  out  of  existence.  He  gave  her  away 
once  to  his  sister  ;  but,  being  a  poor  gift,  she  was  not 
disposed  to  keep  her.  Finally,  my  benevolent  master, 
to  use  his  own  words,  "  set  her  adrift  to  take  care  of 
herself."  Here  was  a  recently-converted  man,  hold- 
ing on  upon  the  mother,  and  at  the  same  time  turning 
out  her  helpless  child,  to  starve  and  die  !  Master 
Thomas  was  one  of  the  many  pious  slaveholders  who 
hold  slaves  for  the  very  charitable  purpose  of  taking 
care  of  them. 

My  master  and  myself  had  quite  a  number  of  differ- 
ences. He  found  me  unsuitable  to  his  purpose.  My 
city  life,  he  said,  had  had  a  very  pernicious  effect  upon 
me.  It  had  almost  ruined  me  for  every  good  purpose, 
and  fitted  me  for  every  thing  which  was  bad.  One  of 
my  greatest  faults  was  that  of  letting  his  horse  run 
away,  and  go  down  to  his  father-in-law's  farm,  which 
was  about  five  miles  from  St.  Michael's.  I  would  then 
have  to  go  after  it.  My  reason  for  this  kind  of  care- 
lessness, or  carefulness,  was,  that  I  could  always  get 
something  to  eat  when  I  went  there.  Master  William 
Hamilton,  my  master's  father-in-law,  always  gave  his 
slaves  enough  to  eat.  I  never  left  there  hungry,  no 
matter  how  great  the  need  of  my  speedy  return. 
Master  Thomas  at  length  said  he  would  stand  it  no 


LIFE  OF  FREDERICK  DOUGLASS.         57 

longer.  I  had  lived  with  him  nine  months,  during 
which  time  he  had  given  me  a  number  of  severe 
whippings,  all  to  no  good  purpose.  He  resolved  to 
put  me  out,  as  he  said,  to  be  broken ;  and,  for  this 
purpose,  he  let  me  for  one  year  to  a  man  named  Ed- 
ward Covey.  Mr.  Covey  was  a  poor  man,  a  farm- 
renter.  He  rented  the  place  upon  which  he  lived,  as 
also  the  hands  with  which  he  tilled  it.  Mr.  Covey  had 
acquired  a  very  high  reputation  for  breaking  young 
slaves,  and  this  reputation  was  of  immense  value  to 
him.  It  enabled  him  to  get  his  farm  tilled  with  much 
less  expense  to  himself  than  he  could  have  had  it  done 
without  such  a  reputation.  Some  slaveholders  thought 
it  not  much  loss  to  allow  Mr.  Covey  to  have  their  slaves 
one  year,  for  the  sake  of  the  training  to  which  they 
were  subjected,  without  any  other  compensation.  He 
could  hire  young  help  with  great  ease,  in  consequence 
of  this  reputation.  Added  to  the  natural  good  qual- 
ities of  Mr.  Covey,  he  was  a  professor  of  religion  — a 
pious  soul  —  a  member  and  a  class-leader  in  the  Meth- 
odist church.  All  of  this  added  weight  to  his  reputa- 
tion as  a  "  nigger-breaker."  I  was  aware  of  all  the 
facts,  having  been  made  acquainted  with  them  by  a 
young  man  who  had  lived  there.  I  nevertheless  made 
the  change  gladly ;  for  I  was  sure  of  getting  enough 
to  eat,  which  is  not  the  smallest  consideration  to  a 
hungry  man. 


58  NARRATIVE    OF   THE 


CHAPTER  X. 

I  LEFT  Master  Thomas's  house,  and  went  to  live  witfo 
Mr.  Covey,  on  the  1st  of  January,  1833.  I  was  now, 
for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  a  field  hand.  In  my  new 
employment,  I  found  myself  even  more  awkward  than 
a  country  boy  appeared  to  be  in  a  large  city.  I  had 
been  at  my  new  home  but  one  week  before  Mr.  Covey 
gave  me  a  very  severe  whipping,  cutting  my  back, 
causing  the  blood  to  run,  and  raising  ridges  on  my 
flesh  as  large  as  my  little  finger.  The  details  of  this 
affair  are  as  follows  :  Mr.  Covey  sent  me,  very  early 
in  the  morning  of  one  of  our  coldest  days  in  the 
month  of  January,  to  the  woods,  to  get  a  load  of  wood. 
He  gave  me  a  team  of  unbroken  oxen.  He  told  me 
which  was  the  in-hand  ox,  and  which  the  off-hand  one. 
He  then  tied  the  end  of  a  large  rope  around  the  horns 
of  the  in-hand  ox,  and  gave  me  the  other  end  of  it, 
and  told  me,  if  the  oxen  started  to  run,  that  I  must 
hold  on  upon  the  rope.  I  had  never  driven  oxen 
before,  and  of  course  I  was  very  awkward.  I,  how- 
ever, succeeded  in  getting  to  the  edge  of  the  woods 
with  little  difficulty  ;  but  I  had  got  a  very  few  rods 
into  the  woods,  when  the  oxen  took  fright,  and  started 
full  tilt,  carrying  the  cart  against  trees,  and  over 
stumps,  in  the  most  frightful  manner.  I  expected 
every  moment  that  my  brains  would  be  dashed  out 
against  the  trees.  After  running  thus  for  a  consider- 
able distance,  they  finally  upset  the  cart,  dashing  it 
with  great  force  against  a  tree,  and  threw  themselves 


LIFE    OF    FREDERICK    DOUGLASS.  59 

into  a  dense  thicket.  How  I  escaped  death,  I  do  not 
know.  There  I  was,  entirely  alone,  in  a  thick  wood, 
in  a  place  new  to  me.  My  cart  was  upset  and  shat- 
tered, my  oxen  were  entangled  among  the  young  trees, 
and  there  was  none  to  help  me.  After  a  long  spell 
of  effort,  I  succeeded  in  getting  my  cart  righted,  my 
oxen  disentangled,  and  again  yoked  to  the  cart.  I 
now  proceeded  with  my  team  to  the  place  where  I  had, 
the  day  before,  been  chopping  wood,  and  loaded  my 
cart  pretty  heavily,  thinking  in  this  way  to  tame  my 
oxen.  I  then  proceeded  on  my  way  home.  I  had 
now  consumed  one  half  of  the  day.  I  got  out  of  the 
woods  safely,  and  now  felt  out  of  danger.  I  stopped 
my  oxen  to  open  the  woods  gate  ;  and  just  as  I  did  so, 
before  I  could  get  hold  of  my  ox- rope,  the  oxen  again 
started,  rushed  through  the  gate,  catching  it  between 
the  wheel  and  the  body  of  the  cart,  tearing  it  to  pieces, 
and  coming  within  a  few  inches  of  crushing  me  against 
the  gate-post.  Thus  twice,  in  one  short  day,  I  es- 
caped death  by  the  merest  chance.  On  my  return, 
I  told  Mr.  Covey  what  had  happened,  and  how  it  hap- 
pened. He  ordered  me  to  return  to  the  woods  again 
immediately.  I  did  so,  and  he  followed  on  after  me. 
Just  as  I  got  into  the  woods,  he  came  up  and  told  me 
to  stop  my  cart,  and  that  he  would  teach  me  how  to 
trifle  away  my  time,  and  break  gates.  He  then  went 
to  a  large  gum-tree,  and  with  his  axe  cut  three  large 
switches,  and,  after  trimming  them  up  neatly  with  his 
pocket-knife,  he  ordered  me  to  take  off  my  clothes.  I 
made  him  no  answer,  but  stood  with  my  clothes  on. 
He  repeated  his  order.  I  still  made  him  no  answer, 
nor  did  I  move  to  strip  myself.  Upon  this  he  rushed 


60  NARRATIVE    OF    THE 

at  me  with  the  fierceness  of  a  tiger,  tore  off  my 
clothes,  and  lashed  me  till  he  had  worn  out  hia 
switches,  cutting  me  so  savagely  as  to  leave  the 
marks  visible  for  a  long  time  after.  This  whipping 
was  the  first  of  a  number  just  like  it,  and  for  similar 
offences. 

I  lived  with  Mr.  Covey  one  year.  During  the  first 
six  months,  of  that  year,  scarce  a  week  passed  with- 
out his  whipping  me.  I  was  seldom  free  from  a  sore 
back.  My  awkwardness  was  almost  always  his  excuse 
for  whipping  me.  We  were  worked  fully  up  to  the 
point  of  endurance.  Long  before  day  we  were  up,  our 
horses  fed,  and  by  the  first  approach  of  day  we  were 
off  to  the  field  with  our  hoes  and  ploughing  teams. 
Mr.  Covey  gave  us  enough  to  eat,  but  scarce  time  to 
eat  it.  We  were  often  less  than  five  minutes  taking 
our  meals.  We  were  often  in  the  field  from  the  first 
approach  of  day  till  its  last  lingering  ray  had  left  us  ; 
and  at  saving-fodder  time,  midnight  often  caught  us  in 
the  field  binding  blades. 

Covey  would  be  out  with  us.  The  way  he  used  to 
stand  it,  was  this.  He  would  spend  the  most  of  his 
afternoons  in  bed.  He  would  then  come  out  fresh  in 
the  evening,  ready  to  urge  us  on  with  his  words,  ex- 
ample, and  frequently  with  the  whip.  Mr.  Covey  was 
one  of  the  few  slaveholders  who  could  and  did  work 
with  his  hands.  He  was  a  hard-working  man.  He 
knew  by  himself  just  what  a  man  or  a  boy  could  do. 
There  was  no  deceiving  him.  His  work  went  on  in 
his  absence  almost  as  well  as  in  his  presence  ;  and  he 
had  the  faculty  of  making  us  feel  that  he  was  ever 
present  with  us.  This  he  did  by  surprising  us.  He 


LIFE    OF    FREDERICK    DOUGLASS.  61 

seldom  approached  the  spot  where  we  were  at  work 
openly,  if  he  could  do  it  secretly.  He  always  aimed 
at  taking  us  by  surprise.  Such  was  his  cunning,  that 
we  used  to  call  him,  among  ourselves,  "  the  snake." 
When  we  were  at  work  in  the  cornfield,  he  would 
sometimes  crawl  on  his  hands  and  knees  to  avoid  de- 
tection, and  all  at  once  he  would  rise  nearly  in  our 
midst,  and  scream  out,  "  Ha,  ha !  Come,  come ! 
Dash  on,  dash  on  ! "  This  being  his  mode  of  attack, 
it  was  never  safe  to  stop  a  single  minute.  His  com- 
ings were  like  a  thief  in  the  night.  He  appeared  to  us 
as  being  ever  at  hand.  He  was  under  every  tree, 
behind  every  stump,  in  every  bush,  and  at  every  win- 
dow, on  the  plantation.  He  would  sometimes  mount 
his  horse,  as  if  bound  to  St.  Michael's,  a  distance  of 
seven  miles,  and  in  half  an  hour  afterwards  you  would 
see  him  coiled  up  in  the  corner  of  the  wood-fence,  watch- 
ing every  motion  of  the  slaves.  He  would,  for  this 
purpose,  leave  his  horse  tied  up  in  the  woods.  Again, 
he  would  sometimes  walk  up  to  us,  and  give  us  orders 
as  though  he  was  upon  the  point  of  starting  on  a  long 
journey,  turn  his  back  upon  us,  and  make  as  though  he 
was  going  to  the  house  to  get  ready  ;  and,  before  he 
would  get  half  way  thither,  he  would  turn  short  and 
crawl  into  a  fence-corner,  or  behind  some  tree,  and 
there  watch  us  till  the  going  down  of  the  sun. 

Mr.  Covey's  forte  consisted  in  his  power  to  deceive. 
His  life  was  devoted  to  planning  and  perpetrating  the 
grossest  deceptions.  Every  thing  he  possessed  in  the 
shape  of  learning  or  religion,  he  made  conform  to  his 
disposition  to  deceive.  He  seemed  to  think  himself 
equal  to  deceiving  the  Almighty.  He  would  make  a 


63  NARRATIVE    OF   THE 

short  prayer  in  the  morning,  and  a  long  prayer  at 
night ;  and,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  few  men  would  at 
times  appear  more  devotional  than  he.  The  exercises 
of  his  family  devotions  were  always  commenced  with 
singing ;  and,  as  he  was  a  very  poor  singer  himself, 
the  duty  of  raising  the  hymn  generally  came  upon  me. 
He  would  read  his  hymn,  and  nod  at  me  to  commence. 
I  would  at  times  do  so ;  at  others,  I  would  not.  My 
non-compliance  would  almost  always  produce  much 
confusion.  To  show  himself  independent  of  me,  he 
would  start  and  stagger  through  with  his  hymn  in  the 
most  discordant  manner.  In  this  state  of  mind,  he 
prayed  with  more  than  ordinary  spirit.  Poor  man ! 
such  was  his  disposition,  and  success  at  deceiving,  I 
do  verily  believe  that  he  sometimes  deceived  himself 
into  the  solemn  belief,  that  he  was  a  sincere  wor- 
shipper of  the  most  high  God  ;  and  this,  too,  at  a  time 
when  he  may  be  said  to  have  been  guilty  of  compelling 
his  woman  slave  to  commit  the  sin  of  adultery.  The 
facts  in  the  case  are  these :  Mr.  Covey  was  a  poor 
man ;  he  was  just  commencing  in  life  ;  he  was  only 
able  to  buy  one  slave  ;  and,  shocking  as  is  the  fact,  he 
bought  her,  as  he  said,  for  a  breeder.  This  woman 
was  named  Caroline.  Mr.  Covey  bought  her  from 
Mr.  Thomas  Lowe,  about  six  miles  from  St.  Michael's. 
She  was  a  large,  able-bodied  woman,  about  twenty 
years  old.  She  had  already  given  birth  to  one  child, 
which  proved  her  to  be  just  what  he  wanted.  After 
buying  her,  he  hired  a  married  man  of  Mr.  Samuel 
Harrison,  to  live  with  him  one  year ;  and  him  he  used 
to  fasten  up  with  her  every  night !  The  result  was, 
that,  at  the  end  of  the  year,  the  miserable  woman  gave 


LIFE    OF    FREDERICK    DOtlGLASS.  63 

birth  to  twins.  At  this  result  Mr.  Covey  seemed  to  be 
highly  pleased,  both  with  the  man  and  the  wretched 
woman.  Such  was  his  joy,  and  that  of  his  wife,  that 
nothing  they  could  do  for  Caroline  during  her  confine- 
ment was  too  good,  or  too  hard,  to  be  done.  The  chil- 
dren were  regarded  as  being  quite  an  addition  to  his 
wealth. 

If  at  any  one  time  of  my  life  more  than  another,  I 
was  made  to  drink  the  bitterest  dregs  of  slavery,  that 
lime  was  during  the  first  six  months  of  my  stay  with 
Mr.  Covey.  We  were  worked  in  all  weathers.  It  was 
never  too  hot  or  too  cold ;  it  could  never  rain,  blow, 
hail,  or  snow,  too  hard  for  us  to  work  in  the  field. 
Work,  work,  work,  was  scarcely  more  the  order  of  the 
day  than  of  the  night.  The  longest  days  were  too 
short  for  him,  and  the  shortest  nights  too  long  for  him. 
I  was  somewhat  unmanageable  when  I  first  went  there, 
but  a  few  months  of  this  discipline  tamed  me.  Mr. 
Covey  succeeded  in  breaking  me.  I  was  broken  in 
body,  soul,  and  spirit  My  natural  elasticity  was 
crushed,  my  intellect  languished,  the  disposition  to 
read  departed,  the  cheerful  spark  that  lingered  about 
my  eye  died  ;  the  dark  night  of  slavery  closed  in  upon 
me  ;  and  behold  a  man  transformed  into  a  brute  ! 

Sunday  was  my  only  leisure  time.  I  spent  this  in  a 
sort  of  beast-like  stupor,  between  sleep  and  wake, 
under  some  large  tree.  At  times  I  would  rise  up,  a 
flash  of  energetic  freedom  would  dart  through  my  soul, 
accompanied  with  a  faint  beam  of  hope,  that  flickered 
for  a  moment,  and  then  vanished.  I  sank  down  again, 
mourning  over  my  wretched  condition.  I  was  some- 
times prompted  to  take  my  life,  and  that  of  Covey,  but 


64  NARRATIVE    OF    THE 

was  prevented  by  a  combination  of  hope  and  fear 
My  sufferings  on  this  plantation  seem  now  like  a  dream 
rather  than  a  stern  reality. 

Our  house  stood  within  a  few  rods  of  the  Chesa* 
peake  Bay,  whose  broad  bosom  was  ever  white  with 
sails  from  every  quarter  of  the  habitable  globe.  Those 
beautiful  vessels,  robed  in  purest  white,  so  delightful 
to  the  eye  of  freemen,  were  to  me  so  many  shrouded 
ghosts,  to  terrify  and  torment  me  with  thoughts  of  my 
wretched  condition.  I  have  often,  in  the  deep  stillness 
of  a  summer's  Sabbath,  stood  all  alone  upon  the  lofty 
banks  of  that  noble  bay,  and  traced,  with  saddened 
heart  and  tearful  eye,  the  countless  number  of  sails 
moving  off  to  the  mighty  ocean.  The  sight  of  these 
always  affected  me  powerfully.  My  thoughts  would 
compel  utterance  ;  and  there,  with  no  audience  but  the 
Almighty,  I  would  pour  out  my  soul's  complaint,  in 
my  rude  way,  with  an  apostrophe  to  the  moving  mul- 
titude of  ships  :  — 

"  You  are  loosed  from  your  moorings,  and  are  free  ; 
I  am  fast  in  my  chains,  and  am  a  slave  !  You  move 
merrily  before  the  gentle  gale,  and  I  sadly  before  the 
bloody  whip  !  You  are  freedom's  swift-winged  angels, 
that  fty  round  the  world  ;  I  am  confined  in  bands  of 
iron !  O  that  I  were  free  !  O,  that  I  were  on  one  of 
your  gallant  decks,  and  under  your  protecting  wing ! 
Alas  !  betwixt  me  and  you,  the  turbid  waters  roll.  Go 
on,  go  on.  O  that  I  could  also  go !  Could  I  but  swim  ! 
If  I  could  fly  !  O,  why  was  I  born  a  man,  of  whom  to 
make  a  brute  !  The  glad  ship  is  gone  ;  she  hides  in 
the  dim  distance.  I  am  left  in  the  hottest  hell  of  un- 
ending slavery.  O  God,  save  me !  God,  deliver  me  ! 


LIFE    OF    FREDERICK    DOUGLASS.  65 

Let  me  be  free  !  Is  there  any  God  ?  Why  am  I  a 
slave  ?  I  will  run  away.  I  will  not  stand  it.  Get 
caught,  or  get  clear,  I'll  try  it.  I  had  as  well  die  with 
ague  as  the  fever.  I  have  only  one  life  to  lose.  I  had 
as  well  be  killed  running  as  die  standing.  Only  think 
of  it ;  one  hundred  miles  straight  north,  and  I  am  free  ! 
Try  it  ?  Yes !  God  helping  me,  I  will.  It  cannot  be 
that  I  shall  live  and  die  a  slave.  I  will  take  to  the  water. 
This  very  bay  shall  yet  bear  me  into  freedom.  The 
steamboats  steered  in  a  north-east  course  from  North 
Point.  I  will  do  the  same  ;  and  when  I  get  to  the  head 
of  the  bay,  I  will  turn  my  canoe  adrift,  and-  walk 
straight  through  Delaware  into  Pennsylvania.  When  1 
get  there,  I  shall  not  be  required  to  have  a  pass ;  I  can 
travel  without  being  disturbed.  Let  but  the  first  op- 
portunity offer,  and,  come  what  will,  I  am  off.  Mean- 
while, I  will  try  to  bear  up  under  the  yoke.  I  am  not 
the  only  slave  in  the  world.  Why  should  I  fret  ?  I 
can  bear  as  much  as  any  of  them.  Besides,  I  am  but 
a  boy,  and  all  boys  are  bound  to  some  one.  It  may 
be  that  my  misery  in  slavery  will  only  increase  my 
happiness  when  I  get  free.  There  is  a  better  day 
coming." 

Thus  I  used  to  think,  and  thus  I  used  to  speak  to 
myself;  goaded  almost  to  madness  at  one  moment, 
and  at  the  next  reconciling  myself  to  my  wretched  lot. 

I  have  already  intimated  that  my  condition  was 
much  worse,  during  the  first  six  months  of  my  stay  at 
Mr.  Covey's,  than  in  the  last  six.  The  circumstances 
leading  to  the  change  in  Mr.  Covey's  course  toward  me 
form  an  epoch  in  my  humble  history.  You  have  seen 
how  a  man  was  made  a  slave ;  you  shall  see  how  a 
5 


66  NARRATIVE    OF    THE 

slave  was  made  a  man.  On  one  of  the  hottest  days 
of  the  month  of  August,  1833,  Bill  Smith,  William 
Hughes,  a  slave  named  Eli,  and  myself,  were  engaged 
in  fanning  wheat.  Hughes  was  clearing  the  fanned 
wheat  from  before  the  fan,  Eli  was  turning,  Smith  was 
feeding,  and  I  was  carrying  wheat  to  the  fan.  The 
work  was  simple,  requiring  strength  rather  than  intel- 
lect ;  yet,  to  one  entirely  unused  to  such  work,  it  came 
very  hard.  About  three  o'clock  of  that  day,  I  broke 
down  ;  my  strength  failed  me  ;  I  was  seized  with  a 
violent  aching  of  the  head,  attended  with  extreme  diz- 
ziness ;  I  trembled  in  every  limb.  Finding  what  was 
coming,  I  nerved  myself  up,  feeling  it  would  never  do 
to  stop  work.  I  stood  as  long  as  I  could  stagger  to  the 
hopper  with  grain.  When  I  could  stand  no  longer,  I 
fell,  and  felt  as  if  held  down  by  an  immense  weight. 
The  fan  of  course  stopped ;  every  one  had  his  own 
work  to  do  ;  and  no  one  could  do  the  work  of  the  other, 
and  have  his  own  go  on  at  the  same  time. 

Mr.  Covey  was  at  the  house,  about  one  hundred 
yards  from  the  treading-yard  where  we  were  fanning. 
On  hearing  the  fan  stop,  he  left  immediately,  and  came 
to  the  spot  where  we  were.  He  hastily  inquired  what 
the  matter  was.  Bill  answered  that  I  was  sick,  and 
there  was  no  one  to  bring  wheat  to  the  fan.  I  had  by 
this  time  crawled  away  under  the  side  of  the  post  and 
rail-fence  by  which  the  yard  was  enclosed,  hoping  to 
find  relief  by  getting  out  of  the  sun.  He  then  asked 
where  I  was.  He  was  told  by  one  of  the  hands.  He 
came  to  the  spot,  and,  after  looking  at  me  awhile, 
asked  me  what  was  the  matter.  I  told  him  as  well  as 
I  could,  for  I  scarce  had  strength  to  speak.  He  then 


LIFE  OP  FREDERICK  DOUGLASS.         67 

gave  me  a  savage  kick  in  the  side,  and  told  me  to  get 
up.  I  tried  to  do  so,  but  fell  back  in  the  attempt.  He 
gave  me  another  kick,  and  again  told  me  to  rise.  I 
again  tried,  and  succeeded  in  gaining  my  feet;  but, 
stooping  to  get  the  tub  with  which  I  was  feeding  the 
fan,  I  again  staggered  and  fell.  While  down  in  this 
situation,  Mr.  Covey  took  up  the  hickory  slat  with 
which  Hughes  had  been  striking  off  the  half-bushel 
measure,  and  with  it  gave  me  a  heavy  blow  upon  the 
head,  making  a  large  wound,  and  the  blood  ran  freely  ; 
and  with  this  again  told  me  to  get  up.  I  made  no 
effort  to  comply,  having  now  made  up  my  mind  to  let 
him  do  his  worst.  In  a  short  time  after  receiving  this 
blow,  my  head  grew  better.  Mr.  Covey  had  now  left 
me  to  my  fate.  At  this  moment  I  resolved,  for  the 
first  time,  to  go  to  my  master,  enter  a  complaint, 
and  ask  his  protection.  In  order  to  this,  I  must  that 
afternoon  walk  seven  miles ;  and  this,  under  the  cir- 
cumstances, was  truly  a  severe  undertaking.  I  was 
exceedingly  feeble  ;  made  so  as  much  by  the  kicks  and 
blows  which  I  received,  as  by  the  severe  fit  of  sickness 
to  which  I  had  been  subjected.  I,  however,  watched  my 
chance,  while  Covey  was  looking  in  an  opposite  direc- 
tion, and  started  for  St.  Michael's.  I  succeeded  in 
getting  a  considerable  distance  on  my  way  to  the 
woods,  when  Covey  discovered  me,  and  called  after 
me  to  come  back,  threatening  what  he  would  do  if  I 
did  not  come.  I  disregarded  both  his  calls  and  his 
threats,  and  made  my  way  to  the  woods  as  fast  as  my 
feeble  state  would  allow ;  and  thinking  I  might  be 
overhauled  by  him  if  I  kept  the  road,  I  walked  through 
the  woods,  keeping  far  enough  from  the  road  to  avoid 


68  NARRATIVE    OF   THE 

detection,  and  near  enough  to  prevent  losing  my  way 
I  had  not  gone  far  before  my  little  strength  again 
failed  me.  I  could  go  no  farther.  I  fell  down,  and  lay 
for  a  considerable  time.  The  blood  was  yet  oozing 
from  the  wound  on  my  head.  For  a  time  I  thought  I 
should  bleed  to  death ;  and  think  now  that  I  should  have 
done  so,  but  that  the  blood  so  matted  my  hair  as  to  stop 
the  wound.  After  lying  there  about  three  quarters  of 
an  hour,  I  nerved  myself  up  again,  and  started  on  my 
way,  through  bogs  and  briers,  barefooted  and  bare- 
headed, tearing  my  feet  sometimes  at  nearly  every 
step  ;  and  after  a  journey  of  about  seven  miles,  occupy- 
ing some  five  hours  to  perform  it,  I  arrived  at  master's 
store.  I  then  presented  an  appearance  enough  to 
affect  any  but  a  heart  of  iron.  From  the  crown  of  my 
head  to  my  feet,  I  was  covered  with  blood.  My  hair 
was  all  clotted  with  dust  and  blood ;  my  shirt  was  stiff 
with  blood.  My  legs  and  feet  were  torn  in  sundry 
places  with  briers  and  thorns,  and  were  also  covered 
with  blood.  I  suppose  I  looked  like  a  man  who  had 
escaped  a  den  of  wild  beasts,  and  barely  escaped  them. 
In  this  state  I  appeared  before  my  master,  humbly 
entreating  him  to  interpose  his  authority  for  my  protec- 
tion. I  told  him  all  the  circumstances  as  well  as  1 
could,  and  it  seemed,  as  I  spoke,  at  times  to  affect  him. 
He  would  then  walk  the  floor,  and  seek  to  justify 
Covey  by  saying  he  expected  I  deserved  it.  He  asked 
me  what  I  wanted.  I  told  him,  to  let  me  get  a  new 
home ;  that  as  sure  as  I  lived  with  Mr.  Covey  again,  I 
should  live  with  but  to  die  with  him  ;  that  Covey  would 
surely  kill  me ;  he  was  in  a  fair  way  for  it.  Master 
Thomas  ridiculed  the  idea  that  there  was  any  danger 


LIFE    OF    FREDERICK    DOUGLASS.  69 

of  Mr.  Covey's  killing  me,  and  said  that  he  knew  Mr. 
Covey  ;  that  he  was  a  good  man,  and  that  he  could 
not  think  of  taking  me  from  him  ;  that,  should  he  do 
so,  he  would  lose  the  whole  year's  wages ;  that  I  be- 
longed to  Mr.  Covey  for  one  year,  and  that  I  must  go 
back  to  him,  come  what  might ;  and  that  I  must  not 
trouble  him  with  any  more  stories,  or  that  he  would 
himself  get  hold  of  me.  After  threatening  me  thus, 
he  gave  me  a  very  large  dose  of  salts,  telling  me  that 
I  might  remain  in  St.  Michael's  that  night,  (it  being 
quite  late,)  but  that  I  must  be  off  back  to  Mr.  Covey's 
early  in  the  morning ;  and  that  if  I  did  not,  he  would 
get  hold  of  me,  which  meant  that  he  would  whip  me. 
I  remained  all  night,  and,  according  to  his  orders,  I 
started  off  to  Covey's  in  the  morning,  (Saturday  morn- 
ing,) wearied  in  body  and  broken  in  spirit.  I  got  no 
supper  that  night,  or  breakfast  that  morning.  I  reached 
Covey's  about  nine  o'clock ;  and  just  as  I  was  getting 
over  the  fence  that  divided  Mrs.  Kemp's  fields  from 
ours,  out  ran  Covey  with  his  cowskin,  to  give  me  another 
whipping.  Before  he  could  reach  me,  I  succeeded  in 
getting  to  the  cornfield ;  and  as  the  corn  was  very 
high,  it  afforded  me  the  means  of  hiding.  He  seemed 
very  angry,  and  searched  for  me  a  long  time.  My 
behavior  was  altogether  unaccountable.  He  finally 
gave  up  the  chase,  thinking,  I  suppose,  that  I  must 
come  home  for  something  to  eat ;  he  would  give 
himself  no  further  trouble  in  looking  for  me.  I  spent 
that  day  mostly  in  the  woods,  having  the  alternative 
before  me, —  to  go  home  and  be  whipped  to  death,  or 
stay  in  the  woods  and  be  starved  to  death.  That 
night,  I  fell  in  with  Sandy  Jenkins,  a  slave  with  whom 


70  NARRATIVE    OF   THE 

I  was  somewhat  acquainted.  Sandy  had  a  free  wife 
who  lived  about  four  miles  from  Mr.  Covey's ;  and  it 
being  Saturday,  he  was  on  his  way  to  see  her.  I  told 
him  my  circumstances,  and  he  very  kindly  invited 
me  to  go  home  with  him.  I  went  home  with  him, 
and  talked  this  whole  matter  over,  and  got  his  ad- 
vice as  to  what  course  it  was  best  for  me  to  pursue. 
I  found  Sandy  an  old  adviser.  He  told  me,  with  great 
solemnity,  I  must  go  back  to  Covey ;  but  that  before  I 
went,  I  must  go  with  him  into  another  part  of  the 
woods,  where  there  was  a  certain  root,  which,  if  I 
would  take  some  of  it  with  me,  carrying  it  always  on 
my  right  side,  would  render  it  impossible  for  Mr.  Covey, 
or  any  other  white  man,  to  whip  me.  He  said  he  had 
carried  it  for  years ;  and  since  he  had  done  so,  he  had 
never  received  a  blow,  and  never  expected  to  while  he 
carried  it.  I  at  first  rejected  the  idea,  that  the  simple 
carrying  of  a  root  in  my  pocket  would  have  any  such 
effect  as  he  had  said,  and  was  not  disposed  to  take  it ; 
but  Sandy  impressed  the  necessity  with  much  earnest- 
ness, telling  me  it  could  do  no  harm,  if  it  did  no  good. 
To  please  him,  I  at  length  took  the  root,  and,  according 
to  his  direction,  carried  it  upon  my  right  side.  This 
was  Sunday  morning.  I  immediately  started  for  home  ; 
and  upon  entering  the  yard  gate,  out  came  Mr.  Covey 
on  his  way  to  meeting.  He  spoke  to  me  very  kindly, 
bade  me  drive  the  pigs  from  a  lot  near  by,  and  passed 
on  towards  the  church.  Now,  this  singular  conduct  of 
Mr.  Covey  really  made  me  begin  to  think  that  there  was 
something  in  the  root  which  Sandy  had  given  me  ; 
and  had  it  been  on  any  other  day  than  Sunday,  I  could 
have  attributed  the  conduct  to  no  other  cause  than  the 


LIFE    OF    FREDERICK    DOUGLASS.  71 

influence  of  that  root ;  and  as  it  was,  I  was  half  in- 
clined to  think  the  root  to  be  something  more  than  1 
at  first  had  taken  it  to  be.  All  went  well  till  Mon- 
day morning.  On  this  morning,  the  virtue  of  the  root 
was  fully  tested.  Long  before  daylight,  I  was  called 
to  go  and  rub,  curry,  and  feed,  the  horses.  I  obeyed, 
and  was  glad  to  obey.  But  whilst  thus  engaged,  whilst 
in  the  act  of  throwing  down  some  blades  from  the  loft, 
Mr.  Covey  entered  the  stable  with  a  long  rope  ;  and 
just  as  I  was  half  out  of  the  loft,  he  caught  hold  of  my 
legs,  and  was  about  tying  me.  As  soon  as  I  found 
what  he  was  up  to,  I  gave  a  sudden  spring,  and  as  I 
did  so,  he  holding  to  my  legs,  I  was  brought  sprawling 
on  the  stable  floor.  Mr.  Covey  seemed  now  to  think 
he  had  me,  and  could  do  what  he  pleased  ;  but  at  this 
moment —  from  whence  came  the  spirit  I  don't  know  — 
I  resolved  to  fight ;  and,  suiting  my  action  to  the  reso- 
lution, I  seized  Covey  hard  by  the  throat ;  and  as  I  did 
so,  I  rose.  He  held  on  to  me,  and  I  to  him.  My  re- 
sistance was 'so  entirely  unexpected,  that  Covey  seemed 
taken  all  aback.  He  trembled  like  a  leaf.  This  gave 
me  assurance,  and  I  held  him  uneasy,  causing  the 
blood  to  run  where  I  touched  him  with  the  ends  of  my 
fingers.  Mr.  Covey  soon  called  out  to  Hughes  for 
help."  Hughes  came,  and,  while  Covey  held  me,  at- 
tempted to  tie  my  right  hand.  While  he  was  in  the 
act  of  doing  so,  I  watched  my  chance,  and  gave  him 
a  heavy  kick  close  under  the  ribs.  This  kick  fairly 
sickened  Hughes,  so  that  he  left  me  in  the  hands  of 
Mr.  Covey.  This  kick  had  the  effect  of  not  only 
weakening  Hughes,  but  Covey  also.  When  he  saw 
Hughes  bending  over  with  pain,  his  courage  quailed. 


72  NARRATIVE    OF    THE 

He  asked  me  if  I  meant  to  persist  in  my  resistance.  1 
told  him  I  did,  come  what  might ;  that  he  had  used  me 
like  a  brute  for  six  months,  and  that  I  was  determined 
to  be  used  so  no  longer.  With  that,  he  strove  to 
drag  me  to  a  stick  that  was  lying  just  out  of  the 
stable  door.  He  meant  to  knock  me  down.  But  just 
as  he  was  leaning  over  to  get  the  stick,  I  seized  him 
with  both  hands  by  his  collar,  and  brought  him  by  a 
sudden  snatch  to  the  ground.  By  this  time,  Bill  came. 
Covey  called  upon  him  for  assistance.  Bill  wanted  to 
know  what  he  could  do.  Covey  said,  "  Take  hold  of 
him,  take  hold  of  him ! "  Bill  said  his  master  hired 
him  out  to  work,  and  not  to  help  to  whip  me  ;  so  he 
left  Covey  and  myself  to  fight  our  own  battle  out. 
We  were  at  it  for  nearly  two  hours.  Covey  at  length 
let  me  go,  puffing  and  blowing  at  a  great  rate,  saying 
that  if  I  had  not  resisted,  he  would  not  have  whipped 
me  half  so  much.  The  truth  was,  that  he  had  not 
whipped  me  at  all.  I  considered  him  as  getting  en- 
tirely the  worst  end  of  the  bargain  ;  for  he  had  drawn 
no  blood  from  me,  but  I  had  from  him.  The  whole 
six  months  afterwards,  that  I  spent  with  Mr.  Covey,  he 
never  laid  the  weight  of  his  finger  upon  me  in  anger. 
He  would  occasionally  say,  he  didn't  want  to  get  hold 
of  me  again.  "  No,"  thought  I,  "  you  need  not ;  for 
you  will  come  off  worse  than  you  did  before." 

This  battle  with  Mr.  Covey  was  the  turning-point  in 
my  career  as  a  slave.  It  rekindled  the  few  expiring 
embers  of  freedom,  and  revived  within  me  a  sense  of 
my  own  manhood.  It  recalled  the  departed  self-con- 
fidence, and  inspired  me  again  with  a  determination  to 
be  free.  The  gratification  afforded  by  the  triumph 


LIFE  OF  FREDERICK  DOUGLASS.         73 

was  a  full  compensation  for  whatever  else  might  fol- 
low, even  death  itself.  He  only  can  understand  the 
deep  satisfaction  which  I  experienced,  who  has  himself 
repelled  by  force  the  bloody  arm  of  slavery.  I  felt  as 
I  never  felt  before.  It  was  a  glorious  resurrection, 
from  the  tomb  of  slavery,  to  the  heaven  of  freedom. 
My  long-crushed  spirk  rose,  cowardice  departed,  bold 
defiance  took  its  place  ;  and  I  now  resolved  that,  how- 
ever long  I  might  remain  a  slave  in  lorm,  the  day  had 
passed  forever  when  I  could  be  a  slave  in  fact.  I  did 
not  hesitate  to  let  it  be  known  of  me,  that  the  white 
man  who  expected  to  succeed  in  whipping,  must  also 
succeed  in  killing  me. 

From  this  time  I  was  never  again  what  might  be 
called  fairly  whipped,  though  I  remained  a  slave  four 
years  afterwards.  I  had  several  fights,  but  was  never 
whipped. 

It  was  for  a  long  time  a  matter  of  surprise  to  me 
why  Mr.  Covey  did  not  immediately  have  me  taken  by 
the  constable  to  the  whipping-post,  and  there  regularly 
whipped  for  the  crime  of  raising  my  hand  against  a 
white  man  in  defence  of  myself.  And  the  only  ex- 
planation I  can  now  think  of  does  not  entirely  satisfy 
me  ;  but  such  as  it  is,  I  will  give  it.  Mr.  Covey  en- 
joyed the  most  unbounded  reputation  for  being  a  first- 
rate  overseer  and  negro-breaker.  It  was  of  consider- 
able importance  to  him.  That  reputation  was  at  stake ; 
and  had  he  sent  me  —  a  boy  about  sixteen  years  old  — 
to  the  public  whipping-post,  his  reputation  would  have 
been  lost ;  so,  to  save  his  reputation,  he  suffered  me  to 
go  unpunished. 

My  term  of  actual  service  to   Mr.  Edward  Covey 


74  NARRATIVE   OP   THE 

ended  on  Christmas  day,  1833.  The  days  between 
Christmas  and  New  Year's  day  are  allowed  as  holi- 
days ;  and,  accordingly,  we  were  not  required  to  per- 
form any  labor,  more  than  to  feed  and  take  care  of  the 
stock.  This  time  we  regarded  as  our  own,  by  the 
grace  of  our  masters ;  and  we  therefore  used  or  abused 
it  nearly  as  we  pleased.  Those  of  us  who  had  fami- 
lies at  a  distance,  were  generally  allowed  to  spend  the 
whole  six  days  in  their  society.  This  time,  however, 
was  spent  in  various  ways.  The  staid,  sober,  thinking 
and  industrious  ones  of  our  number  would  employ 
themselves  in  making  corn-brooms,  mats,  horse-collars, 
and  baskets  ;  and  another  class  of  us  would  spend  the 
time  in  hunting  opossums,  hares,  and  coons.  But  by 
far  the  larger  part  engaged  in  such  sports  and  merri- 
ments as  playing  ball,  wrestling,  running  foot-races, 
fiddling,  dancing,  and  drinking  whisky;  and  this  lat- 
ter mode  of  spending  the  time  was  by  far  the  most 
agreeable  to  the  feelings  of  our  masters.  A  slave  who 
would  work  during  the  holidays  was  considered  by  our 
masters  as  scarcely  deserving  them.  He  was  regarded 
as  one  who  rejected  the  favor  of  his  master.  It  was 
deemed  a  disgrace  not  to  get  drunk  at  Christmas  ;  and 
he  was  regarded  as  lazy  indeed,  who  had  not  provided 
himself  with  the  necessary  means,  during  the  year,  to 
get  whisky  enough  to  last  him  through  Christmas. 

From  what  I  know  of  the  effect  of  these  holidays 
upon  the  slave,  I  believe  them  to  be  among  the  most 
effective  means  in  the  hands  of  the  slaveholder  in 
keeping  down  the  spirit  of  insurrection.  Were  the 
slaveholders  at  once  to  abandon  this  practice,  I  have 
not  the  slightest  doubt  it  would  lead  to  an  immediate 


LIFE    OF    FREDERICK   DOUGLASS.  75 

insurrection  among  the  slaves.  These  holidays  serve  as 
conductors,  or  safety-valves,  to  carry  off  the  rebellious 
spirit  of  enslaved  humanity.  But  for  these,  the  slave 
would  be  forced  up  to  the  wildest  desperation ;  and 
woe  betide  the  slaveholder,  the  day  he  ventures  to 
remove  or  hinder  the  operation  of  those  conductors ! 
I  warn  him  that,  in  such  an  event,  a  spirit  will  go  forth 
in  their  midst,  more  to  be  dreaded  than  the  most 
appalling  earthquake. 

The  holidays  are  part  and  parcel  of  the  gross  fraud, 
wrong,  and  inhumanity  of  slavery.  They  are  pro- 
fessedly a  custom  established  by  the  benevolence  of  the 
slaveholders ;  but  I  undertake  to  say,  it  is  the  result  of 
selfishness,  and  one  of  the  grossest  frauds  committed 
upon  the  down-trodden  slave.  They  do  not  give  the 
slaves  this  time  because  they  would  not  like  to  have 
their  work  during  its  continuance,  but  because  they 
know  it  would  be  unsafe  to  deprive  them  of  it.  This 
will  be  seen  by  the  fact,  that  the  slaveholders  like  to 
have  their  slaves  spend  those  days  just  in  such  a  man- 
ner as  to  make  them  as  glad  of  their  ending  as  of  their 
beginning.  Their  object  seems  to  be,  to  disgust  their 
slaves  with  freedom,  by  plunging  them  into  the  lowest 
depths  of  dissipation.  For  instance,  the  slaveholders 
not  only  like  to  see  the  slave  drink  of  his  own  accord, 
but  will  adopt  various  plans  to  make  him  drunk.  One 
plan  is,  to  make  bets  on  their  slaves,  as  to  who  can 
drink  the  most  whisky  without  getting  drunk ;  and  in 
this  way  they  succeed  in  getting  whole  multitudes  to 
drink  to  excess.  Thus,  when  the  slave  asks  for 
virtuous  freedom,  the  cunning  slaveholder,  knowing 
his  ignorance,  cheats  him  with  a  dose  of  vicious  dissi- 


76  NARRATIVE    OF    THE 

pation,  artfully  labelled  with  the  name  of  liberty.  The 
most  of  us  used  to  drink  it  down,  and  the  result  was 
just  what  might  be  supposed :  many  of  us  were  led  to 
think  that  there  was  little  to  choose  between  liberty 
and  slavery.  We  felt,  and  very  properly  too,  that  we 
had  almost  as  well  be  slaves  to  man  as  to  rum.  So, 
when  the  holidays  ended,  we  staggered  up  from  the 
filth  of  our  wallowing,  took  a  long  breath,  and  inarched 
to  the  field,  —  feeling,  upon  the  whole,  rather  glad  to 
go,  from  what  our  master  had  deceived  us  into  a  belief 
was  freedom,  back  to  the  arms  of  slavery. 

I  have  said  that  this  mode  of  treatment  is  a  part  of 
the  whole  system  of  fraud  and  inhumanity  of  slavery. 
It  is  so.  The  mode  here  adopted  to  disgust  the  slave 
with  freedom,  by  allowing  him  to  see  only  the  abuse 
of  it,  is  carried  out  in  other  things.  For  instance,  a 
slave  loves  molasses  ;  he  steals  some.  His  master,  in 
many  cases,  goes  off  to  town,  and  buys  a  large  quan- 
tity ;  he  returns,  takes  his  whip,  and  commands  the 
slave  to  eat  the  molasses,  until  the  poor  fellow  is  made 
sick  at  the  very  mention  of  it.  The  same  mode  is 
sometimes  adopted  to  make  the  slaves  refrain  from  ask- 
ing for  more  food  than  their  regular  allowance.  A 
slave  runs  through  his  allowance,  and  applies  for  more. 
His  master  is  enraged  at  him  ;  but,  not  willing  to  send 
him  off  without  food,  gives  him  more  than  is  necessary, 
and  compels  him  to  eat  it  within  a  given  time.  Then, 
if  he  complains  that  he  cannot  eat  it,  he  is  said  to  be 
satisfied  neither  full  nor  fasting,  and  is  whipped  for 
being  hard  to  please !  I  have  an  abundance  of  such 
illustrations  of  the  same  principle,  drawn  from  my  own 


LIFE  OF  FREDERICK  DOUGLASS.         77 

observation,  but  think  the  cases  I  have  cited  sufficient 
The  practice  is  a  very  common  one. 

On  the  first  of  January,  1834,  I  left  Mr.  Covey,  and 
went  to  live  with  Mr.  William  Freeland,  who  lived 
about  three  miles  from  St.  Michael's.  I  soon  found 
Mr.  Freeland  a  very  different  man  from  Mr.  Covey. 
Though  not  rich,  he  was  what  would  be  called  an 
educated  southern  gentleman.  Mr.  Covey,  as  I  have 
shown,  was  a  well-trained  negro-breaker  and  slave- 
driver.  The  former  .(slaveholder  though  he  was) 
seemed  to  possess  some  regard  for  honor,  some  rever- 
ence for  justice,  and  some  respect  for  humanity.  The 
latter  seemed  totally  insensible  to  all  such  sentiments. 
Mr.  Freeland  had  many  of  the  faults  peculiar  to  slave- 
holders, such  as  being  very  passionate  and  fretful ;  but 
I  must  do  him  the  justice  to  say,  that  he  was  exceed- 
ingly free  from  those  degrading  vices  to  which  Mr. 
Covey  was  constantly  addicted  The  one  was  open 
and  frank,  and  we  always  knew  where  to  find  him. 
The  other  was  a  most  artful  deceiver,  and  could  be 
understood  only  by  such  as  were  skilful  enough  to 
detect  his  cunningly-devised  frauds.  Another  advan- 
tage I  gained  in  my  new  master  was,  he  made  no  pre- 
tensions to,  or  profession  of,  religion  ;  and  this,  in  my 
opinion,  was  truly  a  great  advantage.  I  assert  most 
unhesitatingly,  that  the  religion  of  the  south  is  a  mere 
covering  for  the  most  horrid  crimes,  —  a  justifier  of  the 
most  appalling  barbarity,  —  a  sanctifier  of  the  most 
hateful  frauds,  —  and  a  dark  shelter  under,  which  the 
darkest,  foulest,  grossest,  and  most  infernal  deeds  of 
slaveholders  find  the  strongest  protection.  Were  I  to 
be  again  reduced  to  the  chains  of  slavery,  next  to  that 


78  NARRATIVE    OF    THE 

enslavement,  I  should  regard  being  the  slave  of  a 
religious  master  the  greatest  calamity  that  could  be- 
fall me.  For  of  all  slaveholders  with  whom  I  have 
ever  met,  religious  slaveholders  are  the  worst.  I  have 
ever  found  them  the  meanest  and  basest,  the  most  cruel 
and  cowardly,  of  all  others.  It  was  my  unhappy  lot  not 
only  to  belong  to  a  religious  slaveholder,  but  to  live  in 
a  community  of  such  religionists.  Very  near  Mr. 
Freeland  lived  the  Rev.  Daniel  Weeden,  and  in  the 
same  neighborhood  lived  the  Rev.  Rigby  Hopkins. 
These  were  members  and  ministers  in  the  Reformed 
Methodist  Church.  Mr.  Weeden  owned,  among  others, 
a  woman  slave,  whose  name  I  have  forgotten.  This 
•woman's  back,  for  weeks,  was  kept  literally  raw,  made 
so  by  the  lash  of  this  merciless,  religious  wretch.  He 
used  to  hire  hands.  His  maxim  was,  Behave  well  or 
behave  ill,  it  is  the  duty  of  a  master  occasionally  to 
whip  a  slave,  to  remind  him  of  his  master's  authority. 
Such  was  his  theory,  and  such  his  practice. 

Mr.  Hopkins  was  even  worse  than  Mr.  Weeden. 
His  chief  boast  was  his  ability  to  manage  slaves.  The 
peculiar  feature  of  his  government  was  that  of  whip- 
ping slaves  in  advance  of  deserving  it.  He  always 
managed  to  have  one  or  more  of  his  slaves  to  whip 
every  Monday  morning.  He  did  this  to  alarm  their 
fears,  and  strike  terror  into  those  who  escaped.  His 
plan  was  to  whip  for  the  smallest  offences,  to  prevent 
the  commission  of  large  ones.  Mr.  Hopkins  could 
always  find  some  excuse  for  whipping  a  slave.  It 
would  astonish  one,  unaccustomed  to  a  slaveholding 
life,  to  see  with  what  wonderful  ease  a  slaveholder  can 
find  things,  of  which  to  make  occasion  to  whip  a  slave. 


LIFE  OF  FREDERICK  DOUGLASS.         79 

A  mere  look,  word,  or  motion,  —  a  mistake,  accident,  or 
want  of  power,  —  are  all  matters  for  which  a  slave  may 
be  whipped  at  any  time.  Does  a  slave  look  dissatis- 
fied ?  It  is  said,  he  has  the  devil  in  him,  and  it  must 
be  whipped  out.  Does  he  speak  loudly  when  spoken 
to  by  his  master  ?  Then  he  is  getting  high-minded, 
and  should  be  taken  down  a  button-hole  lower.  Does 
he  forget  to  pull  off  his  hat  at  the  approach  of  a  white 
person  ?  Then  he  is  wanting  in  reverence,  and  should 
be  whipped  for  it.  Does  he  ever  venture  to  vindicate 
his  conduct,  when  censured  for  it  ?  Then  he  is  guilty 
of  impudence,  —  one  of  the  greatest  crimes  of  which  a 
slave  can  be  guilty.  Does  he  ever  venture  to  suggest 
a  different  mode  of  doing  things  from  that  pointed  out 
by  his  master  ?  He  is  indeed  presumptuous,  and 
getting  above  himself ;  and  nothing  less  than  a  flogging 
will  do  for  him.  Does  he,  while  ploughing,  break  a 
plough, —  or,  while  hoeing,  break  a  hoe  ?  It  is  owing 
to  his  carelessness,  and  for  it  a  slave  must  always  be 
whipped.  Mr.  Hopkins  could  always  find  something 
of  this  sort  to  justify  the  use  of  the  lash,  and  he  seldom 
failed  to  embrace  such  opportunities.  There  was  not  a 
man  in  the  whole  county,  with  whom  the  slaves  whc 
had  the  getting  their  own  home,  would  not  prefer  to  live, 
rather  than  with  this  Rev.  Mr.  Hopkins.  And  yet  there 
was  not  a  man  any  where  round,  who  made  higher 
professions  of  religion,  or  was  more  active  in  revivals, 
—  more  attentive  to  the  class,  love-feast,  prayer  and 
preaching  meetings,  or  more  devotional  in  his  family,  — 
that  prayed  earlier,  later,  louder,  and  longer,  —  than 
this  same  reverend  slave-driver,  Rigby  Hopkins. 

But  to  return  to  Mr.  Freeland,  and  to  my  experience 


80  NARRATIVE    OF    THE 

while  in  his  employment.  He,  like  Mr.  Covey,  gave 
us  enough  to  eat ;  but,  unlike  Mr.  Covey,  he  also  gave 
us  sufficient  time  to  take  our  meals.  He  worked  us 
hard,  but  always  between  sunrise  and  sunset.  He 
required  a  good  deal  of  work  to  be  done,  but  gave 
us  good  tools  with  which  to  work.  His  farm  was 
large,  but  he  employed  hands  enough  to  work  it, 
and  with  ease,  compared  with  many  of  his  neighbors. 
My  treatment,  while  in  his  employment,  was  heavenly, 
compared  with  what  I  experienced  at  the  hands  of  Mr. 
Edward  Covey. 

Mr.  Freeland  was  himself  the  owner  of  but  two 
slaves.  Their  names  were  Henry  Harris  and  John 
Harris.  The  rest  of  his  hands  he  hired.  These  con- 
sisted of  myself,  Sandy  Jenkins,*  and  Handy  Caldwell. 
Henry  and  John  were  quite  intelligent,  and  in  a  very 
little  while  after  I  went  there,  I  succeeded  in  creating 
in  them  a  strong  desire  to  learn  how  to  read.  This 
desire  soon  sprang  up  in  the  others  also.  They  very 
soon  mustered  up  some  old  spelling-books,  and  nothing 
would  do  but  that  I  must  keep  a  Sabbath  school.  I 
agreed  to  do  so,  and  accordingly  devoted  my  Sundays 
to  teaching  these  my  loved  fellow-slaves  how  to  read. 
Neither  of  them  knew  his  letters  when  I  went  there. 
Some  of  the  slaves  of  the  neighboring  farms  found 

*  This  is  the  same  man  who  gave  me  the  roots  to  prevent 
my  being  whipped  by  Mr.  Covey.  He  was  "  a  clever  soul." 
We  used  frequently  to  talk  about  the  fight  with  Covey,  and  as 
often  as  we  did  so,  he  would  claim  my  success  as  the  result  of 
the  roots  which  he  gave  me.  This  superstition  is  very  com- 
mon among  the  more  ignorant  slaves.  A  slave  seldom  dies 
Dut  that  his  death  is  attributed  to  trickery. 


LIFE    OP    FREDERICK   DOUGLASS.  81 

what  was  going  on,  and  also  availed  themselves  of  this 
little  opportunity  to  learn  to  read.  It  was  understood, 
among  all  who  came,  that  there  must  be  as  little  dis- 
play about  it  as  possible.  It  was  necessary  to  keep 
our  religious  masters  at  St.  Michael's  unacquainted 
with  the  fact,  that,  instead  of  spending  the  Sabbath  in 
wrestling,  boxing,  and  drinking  whisky,  we  were  try- 
ing to  learn  how  to  read  the  will  of  God  ;  for  they 
had  much  rather  see  us  engaged  in  those  degrading 
sports,  than  to  see  us  behaving  like  intellectual,  moral, 
and  accountable  beings.  My  blood  boils  as  I  think  of 
the  bloody  manner  in  which  Messrs.  Wright  Fairbanks 
and  Garrison  West,  both  class-leaders,  in.  connection 
with  many  others,  rushed  in  upon  us  with  sticks  and 
stones,  and  broke  up  our  virtuous  little  Sabbath  school, 
at  St.  Michael's  —  all  calling  themselves  Christians ! 
•humble  followers  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ !  But  I  am 
again  digressing. 

I  held  my  Sabbath  school  at  the  house  of  a  free 
colored  man,  whose  name  I  deem  it  imprudent  to  men- 
tion ;  for  should  it  be  known,  it  might  embarrass  him 
greatly,  though  the  crime  of  holding  the  school  was 
committed  ten  years  ago.  I  had  at  one  time  over  forty 
scholars,  and  those  of  the  right  sort,  ardently  desiring 
to  learn.  They  were  of  all  ages,  though  mostly  men 
and  women.  I  look  back  to  those  Sundays  with  an 
amount  of  pleasure  not  to  be  expressed.  They  were 
great  days  to  my  soul.  The  work  of  instructing  my 
dear  fellow-slaves  was  the  sweetest  engagement  with 
which  I  was  ever  blessed.  We  loved  each  other,  and 
to  leave  them  at  the  close  of  the  Sabbath  was  a  severe 
cross  kideed.  When  I  think  that  these  precious  souls 
6 


82  NARRATIVE   OF  THE 

are  to-day  shut  up  in  the  prison-house  of  slavery,  ray 
feelings  overcome  me,  and  I  am  almost  ready  to  ask, 
"  Does  a  righteous  God  govern  the  universe  ?  and  for 
what  does  he  hold  the  thunders  in  his  right  hand,  if  not 
to  smite  the  oppressor,  and  deliver  the  spoiled  out  of 
the  hand  of  the  spoiler  ?  "  These  dear  souls  came 
not  to  Sabbath  school  because  it  was  popular  to  do  so, 
nor  did  I  teach  them  because  it  was  reputable  to  be 
thus  engaged.  Every  moment  they  spent  in  that 
school,  they  were  liable  to  be  taken  up,  and  given 
thirty-nine  lashes.  They  came  because  they  wished 
to  learn.  Their  minds  had  been  starved  by  their  cruel 
masters.  They  had  been  shut  up  in  mental  darkness. 
I  taught  them,  because  it  was  the  delight  of  my  soul  to 
be  doing  something  that  looked  like  bettering  the  con- 
dition of  my  race.  I  kept  up  my  school  nearly  the 
whole  year  I  lived  with  Mr.  Freeland  ;  and,  beside^ 
my  Sabbath  school,  I  devoted  three  evenings  in  the 
week,  during  the  winter,  to  teaching  the  slaves  at 
home.  And  I  have  the  happiness  to  know,  that  several 
of  those  who  came  to  Sabbath  school  learned  how  to 
read  ;  and  that  one,  at  least,  is  now  free  through  my 
agency. 

The  year  passed  off  smoothly.  It  seemed  only 
about  half  as  long  as  the  year  which  preceded  it.  I 
went  through  it  without  receiving  a  single  blow.  I  will 
give  Mr.  Freeland  the  credit  of  being  the  best  master  I 
ever  had,  till  I  became  my  own  master.  For  the  ease" 
with  which  I  passed  the  year,  I  was,  however,  some- 
what indebted  to  the  society  of  my  fellow-slaves. 
They  were  noble  souls ;  they  not  only  possessed  loving 
hearts,  but  brave  ones.  We  were  linked  and  inter- 


LIFE  OF  FREDERICK  DOUGLASS.         83 

linked  with  each  other.  I  loved  them  with  a  love 
stronger  than  any  thing  I  have  experienced  since.  It 
is  sometimes  said  that  we  slaves  do  not  love  and  con- 
fide in  each  other.  In  answer  to  this  assertion,  I  can 
say,  I  never  loved  any  or  confided  in  any  people  more 
than  my  fellow-slaves,  and  especially  those  with  whom 
I  lived  at  Mr.  Freeland's.  I  believe  we  would  have 
died  for  each  other.  We  never  undertook  to  do  any 
thing,  of  any  importance,  without  a  mutual  consultation. 
We  never  moved  separately.  We  were  one  ;  and  as 
much  so  by  our  tempers  and  dispositions,  as  by  the 
mutual  hardships  to  which  we  were  necessarily  sub- 
jected by  our  condition  as  slaves. 

At  the  close  of  the  year  1834,  Mr.  Freeland  again 
hired  me  of  my  master,  for  the  year  1835.  But,  by 
this  time,  I  began  to  want  to  live  upon  free  land  as  well 
as  with  Freeland ;  and  I  was  no  longer  content,  there- 
fore, to  live  with  him  or  any  other  slaveholder.  I 
began,  with  the  commencement  of  the  year,  to  prepare 
myself  for  a  final  struggle,  which  should  decide  my 
fate  one  way  or  the  other.  My  tendency  was  upward. 
I  was  fast  approaching  manhood,  and  year  after  year 
had  passed,  and  I  was  still  a  slave.  These  thoughts 
roused  me  —  I  must  do  something.  I  therefore  re- 
solved that  1835  should  not  pass  without  witnessing 
an  attempt,  on  my  part,  to  secure  my  liberty.  But  I 
was  not  willing  to  cherish  this  determination  alone.  My 
fellow-slaves  were  dear  to  me.  I  was  anxious  to  have 
them  participate  with  me  in  this,  my  life-giving  deter- 
mination. I  therefore,  though  with  great  prudence, 
commenced  early  to  ascertain  their  views  and  feelings 
in  regard  to  their  condition,  and  to  imbue  their  minds 


84  NARRATIVE    OF    THE 

with  thoughts  of  freedom.  I  bent  myself  to  devising 
ways  and  means  for  our  escape,  and  meann-lnle  strove, 
on  all  fitting  occasions,  to  impress  them  with  the  gross 
fraud  and  inhumanity  of  slavery.  I  went  first  to 
Henry,  next  to  John,  then  to  the  others.  I  found,  in 
them  all,  warm  hearts  and  noble  spirits.  They  were 
ready  to  hear,  and  ready  to  act  when  a  feasible  plan 
should  be  proposed.  This  was  what  I  wanted.  I  talked 
to  them  of  our  want  of  manhood,  if  we  submitted  to 
our  enslavement  without  at  least  one  noble  effort  to  be 
free.  We  met  often,  and  consulted  frequently,  and 
told  our  hopes  and  fears,  recounted  the  difficulties,  real 
and  imagined,  which  we  should  be  called  on  to  meet. 
At  times  we  were  almost  disposed  to  give  up,  and  try 
to  content  ourselves  with  our  wretched  lot ;  at  others, 
we  were  firm  and  unbending  in  our  determination  to  go. 
Whenever  we  suggested  any  plan,  there  was  shrink- 
ing —  the  odds  were  fearful.  Our  path  was  beset  with 
the  greatest  obstacles  ;  and  if  we  succeeded  in  gaining 
the  end  of  it,  our  right  to  be  free  was  yet  questionable 

—  we  were  yet  liable  to  be  returned  to  bondage.     We 
could  see  no  spot,  this  side  of  the  ocean,  where  we 
could  be  free.     We  knew  nothing  about  Canada.     Our 
knowledge  of  the  north  did  not  extend  farther  than 
New  York ;  and  to  go  there,  and  be  forever  harassed 
with  the  frightful  liability  of  being  returned  to  slavery 

—  with  the  certainty  of  being  treated  tenfold  worse  than 
before  — the  thought  was   truly  a  horrible    one,  and 
one  which  it  was  not  easy  to  overcome.     The   case 
sometimes  stood  thus :     At  every  gate  through  which 
we   were   to  pass,  we   saw  a  watchman  —  at   every 
ferry  a  guard  —  on  every  bridge  a  sentinel  —  and  in 


LIFE  OF  FBEDER1CK  DOUGLASS.         85 

every  wood  a  patrol.  We  were  hemmed  in  upon 
every  side.  Here  were  the  difficulties,  real  or  im- 
agined—  the  good  to  be  sought,  and  the  evil  to  be 
shunned.  On  the  one  hand,  there  stood  slavery,  a 
stern  reality,  glaring  frightfully  upon  us,  —  its  robes 
already  crimsoned  with  the  blood  of  millions,  and  even 
now  feasting  itself  greedily  upon  our  own  flesh.  On  the 
other  hand,  away  back  in  the  dim  distance,  under  the 
flickering  light  of  the  north  star,  behind  some  craggy 
hill  or  snow-covered  mountain,  stood  a  doubtful  free- 
dom —  half  frozen  —  beckoning  us  to  come  and  share 
its  hospitality.  This  in  itself  was  sometimes  enough 
to  stagger  us  ;  but  when  we  permitted  ourselves  to 
survey  the  road,  we  were  frequently  appalled.  Upon 
either  side  we  saw  grim  death,  assuming  the  most 
horrid  shapes.  Now  it  was  starvation,  causing  us  to 
eat  our  own  flesh; — now  we  were  contending  with 
the  waves,  and  were  drowned  ;  —  now  we  were  over- 
taken, and  torn  to  pieces  by  the  fangs  of  the  terrible 
bloodhound.  We  were  stung  by  scorpions,  chased  by 
wild  beasts,  bitten  by  snakes,  and  finally,  after  having 
nearly  reached  the  desired  spot,  —  after  swimming 
rivers,  encountering  wild  beasts,  sleeping  in  the  woods, 
suffering  hunger  and  nakedness,  —  we  were  overtaken 
by  our  pursuers,  and,  in  our  resistance,  we  were  shot 
dead  upon  the  spot !  I  say,  this  picture  sometimes 
appalled  us,  and  made  us 

"  rather  bear  those  ills  we  had, 
Than  fly  to  others,  that  we  knew  not  of." 

In  coming  to  a  fixed  determination  to  run  away,  we 
did  more  than  Patrick  Henry,  when  he  resolved  upon 


86 


NARRATIVE    OF   THE 


liberty  or  death.  With  us  it  was  a  doubtful  liberty  at 
most,  and  almost  certain  death  if  we  failed.  For  my 
part,  I  should  prefer  death  to  hopeless  bondage. 

Sandy,  one  of  our  number,  gave  up  the  notion,  but 
still  encouraged  us.  Our  company  then  consisted  of 
Henry  Harris,  John  Harris,  Henry  Bailey,  Charles 
Roberts,  and  myself.  Henry  Bailey  was  my  uncle, 
and  belonged  to  my  master.  Charles  married  my 
aunt :  he  belonged  to  my  master's  father-in-law,  Mr. 
William  Hamilton. 

The  plan  we  finally  concluded  upon  was,  to  get  a 
large  canoe  belonging  to  Mr.  Hamilton,  and  upon  the 
Saturday  night  previous  to  Easter  holidays,  paddle  di- 
rectly up  the  Chesapeake  Bay.  On  our  arrival  at  the 
head  of  the  bay,  a  distance  of  seventy  or  eighty  miles 
from  where  we  lived,  it  was  our  purpose  to  turn  our 
canoe  adrift,  and  follow  the  guidance  of  the  north  star 
till  we  got  beyond  the  limits  of  Maryland.  Our  reason 
for  taking  the  water  route  was,  that  we  were  less  liable 
to  be  suspected  as  runaways ;  we  hoped  to  be  re- 
garded as  fishermen ;  whereas,  if  we  should  take  the 
land  route,  we  should  be  subjected  to  interruptions  of 
almost  every  kind.  Any  one  having  a  white  face,  and 
being  so  disposed,  could  stop  us,  and  subject  us  to 
examination. 

The  week  before  our  intended  start,  I  wrote  sev- 
eral protections,  one  for  each  of  us.  As  well  as  I  can 
remember,  they  were  in  the  following  words,  to  wit :  — 

"  THIS  is  to  certify  that  I,  the  undersigned,  have  given 
the  bearer,  my  servant,  full  liberty  to  go  to  Baltimore, 


LIFE  OF  FREDERICK  DOUGLASS.         87 

and  spend  the  Easter  holidays.  Written  with  mine 
own  hand,  &c.,  1835. 

"  WILLIAM  HAMILTON, 
"  Near  St.  Michael's,  in  Talbot  county,  Maryland." 

We  were  not  going  to  Baltimore  ;  but,  in  going  up  the 
bay,  we  went  toward  Baltimore,  and  these  protections 
were  only  intended  to  protect  us  while  on  the  bay. 

As  the  time  drew  near  for  our  departure,  our  anxiety 
became  more  and  more  intense.  It  was  truly  a  matter 
of  life  and  death  with  us.  The  strength  of  our  deter- 
mination was  about  to  be  fully  tested.  At  this  time,  I 
was  very  active  in  explaining  every  difficulty,  remov- 
ing every  doubt,  dispelling  every  fear,  and  inspiring  all 
with  the  firmness  indispensable  to  success  in  our  un- 
dertaking ;  assuring  them  that  half  was  gained  the 
instant  we  made  the  move ;  we  had  talked  long 
enough ;  we  were  now  ready  to  move ;  if  not  now,  we 
never  should  be  ;  and  if  we  did  not  intend  to  move 
now,  we  had  as  well  fold  our  arms,  sit  down,  and  ac- 
knowledge ourselves  fit  only  to  be  slaves.  This,  none 
of  us  were  prepared  to  acknowledge.  Every  man 
stood  firm  ;  and  at  our  last  meeting,  we  pledged  our- 
selves afresh,  in  the  most  solemn  manner,  that,  at  the 
time  appointed,  we  would  certainly  start  in  pursuit  of 
freedom.  This  was  in  the  middle  of  the  week,  at  the 
end  of  which  we  were  to  be  off.  We  went,  as  usual, 
to  our  several  fields  of  labor,  but  with  bosoms  highly 
agitated  with  thoughts  of  our  truly  hazardous  under- 
taking. We  tried  to  conceal  our  feelings  as  much  as 
possible ;  and  I  think  we  succeeded  very  well. 

After  a    painful   waiting,  the    Saturday  morning, 


88  NARRATIVE    OF    THE 

whos&  night  was  to  witness  our  departure,  came.  I 
hailed  it  with  joy,  bring  what  of -sadness  it  might 
Friday  night  was  a  sleepless  one  for  me.  I  probably 
felt  more  anxious  than  the  rest,  because  I  was,  by  com- 
mon consent,  at  the  head  of  the  whole  affair.  The 
responsibility  of  success  or  failure  lay  heavily  upon 
me.  The  glory  of  the  one,  and  the  confusion  of  the 
other,  were  alike  mine.  The  first  two  hours  of  that 
morning  were  such  as  I  never  experienced  before,  and 
hope  never  to  again.  Early  in  the  morning,  we  went, 
as  usual,  to  the  field.  We  were  spreading  manure ; 
and  all  at  once,  while  thus  engaged,  I  was  over- 
whelmed with  an  indescribable  feeling,  in  the  fulness 
of  which  I  turned  to  Sandy,  who  was  near  by,  and 
said,  "  We  are  betrayed  ! "  "  Well,"  said  he,  "  that 
thought  has  this  moment  struck  me."  We  said  no 
more.  I  was  never  more  certain  of  any  thing. 

The  horn  was  blown  as  usual,  and  we  went  up  from 
the  field  to  the  house  for  breakfast.  I  went  for  the 
form,  more  than  for  want  of  any  thing  to  eat  that 
morning.  Just  as  I  got  to  the  house,  in  looking  out  at 
the  lane  gate,  I  saw  four  white  men,  with  two  colored 
men.  The  white  men  were  on  horseback,  and  the 
colored  ones  were  walking  behind,  as  if  tied.  I 
watched  them  a  few  moments  till  they  got  up  to  our 
lane  gate.  Here  they  halted,  and  tied  the  colored  men 
to  the  gate-post.  I  was  not  yet  certain  as  to  what  the 
matter  was.  In  a  few  moments,  in  rode  Mr.  Hamilton, 
w.th  a  speed  betokening  great  excitement.  He  came 
to  the  door,  and  inquired  if  Master  William  was  in. 
He  was  told  he  was  at  the  barn.  Mr.  Hamilton,  with- 
out dismounting,  rode  up  to  the  barn  with  extraor- 


LIFE    OF    FREDERICK    DOUGLASS.  89 

dinary  speed.  In  a  few  moments,  he  and  Mr.  Free- 
land  returned  to  the  house.  By  this  time,  the  three 
constables  rode  up,  and  in  great  haste  dismounted,  tied 
their  horses,  and  met  Master  William  and  Mr.  Hamil- 
ton returning  from  the  barn  ;  and  after  talking  awhile, 
they  all  walked  up  to  the  kitchen  door.  There  was  no 
one  in  the  kitchen  but  myself  and  John.  Henry  and 
Sandy  were  up  at  the  barn.  Mr.  Freeland  put  his 
head  in  at  the  door,  and  called  me  by  name,  saying, 
there  were  some  gentlemen  at  the  door  who  wished  to 
see  me.  I  stepped  to  the  door,  and  inquired  what  they 
wanted.  They  at  once  seized  me,  and,  without  giving 
me  any  satisfaction,  tied  me  —  lashing  my  hands 
closely  together.  I  insisted  upon  knowing  what  the 
matter  was.  They  at  length  said,  that  they  had 
learned  I  had  been  in  a  "  scrape,"  and  that  I  was  to 
be  examined  before  my  master ;  and  if  their  informa- 
tion proved  false,  I  should  not  be  hurt. 

In  a  few  moments,  they  succeeded  in  tying  John. 
They  then  turned  to  Henry,  who  had  by  this  time 
returned,  and  commanded  him  to  cross  his  hands.  "  I 
won't ! "  said  Henry,  in  a  firm  tone,  indicating  his  readi- 
ness to  meet  the  consequences  of  his  refusal.  "  Won't 
you  ? "  said  Tom  Graham,  the  constable.  "  No,  I 
won't !  "  said  Henry,  in  a  still  stronger  tone.  With  this, 
two  of  the  constables  pulled  out  their  shining  pistols, 
and  swore,  by  their  Creator,  that  they  would  make  him 
cross  his  hands  or  kill  him.  Each  cocked  his  pistol, 
and,  with  fingers  on  the  trigger,  walked  up  to  Henry, 
saying,  at  the  same  time,  if  he  did  not  cross  his  hands, 
they  would  blow  his  damned  heart  out.  "  Shoot  me 
shoot  me ! "  said  Henry ;  "  you  can't  kill  me  but  once. 


90  NARRATIVE    OF    THE 

Shoot,  shoot,  —  and  be  damned !  /  won't  le  tied  !  " 
This  he  said  in  a  tone  of  loud  defiance  ;  and  at  the  same 
time,  with  a  motion  as  quick  as  lightning,  he  with  one 
'single  stroke  dashed  the  pistols  from  the  hand  of  each 
constable.  As  he  did  this,  all  hands  fell  upon  him, 
and,  after  beating  him  some  time,  they  finally  over- 
powered him,  and  got  him  tied. 

During  the  scuffle,  I  managed,  I  know  not  how,  to  get 
my  pass  out,  and,  without  being  discovered,  put  it  into 
the  fire.  We  were  all  now  tied ;  and  just  as  we  were 
to  leave  for  Easton  jail,  Betsy  Freeland,  mother  of 
William  Freeland,  came  to  the  door  with  her  hands 
full  of  biscuits,  and  divided  them  between  Henry  and 
John.  She  then  delivered  herself  of  a  speech,  to  the 
following  effect:  —  addressing  herself  to  me,  she  said, 
"  You  devil !  You  yellow  devil !  it  was  you  that  put  it 
into  the  heads  of  Henry  and  John  to  run  away.  But 
for  you,  you  long-legged  mulatto  devil !  Henry  nor 
John  would  never  have  thought  of  such  a  thing."  I 
made  no  reply,  and  was  immediately  hurried  off  to- 
wards St.  Michael's.  Just  a  moment  previous  to  the 
scuffle  with  Henry,  Mr.  Hamilton  suggested  the  pro- 
priety of  making  a  search  for  the  protections  which  he 
had  understood  Frederick  had  written  for  himself  and 
the  rest.  But,  just  at  the  moment  he  was  about  carry- 
ing his  proposal  into  effect,  his  aid  was  needed  in  help- 
ing to  tie  Henry  ;  and  the  excitement  attending  the 
scuffle  caused  them  either  to  forget,  or  to  deem  it 
unsafe,  under  the  circumstances,  to  search.  So  we 
were  not  yet  convicted  of  the  intention  to  run  away. 

When  we  got  about  half  way  to  St.  Michael's,  while 
the  constables  having  us  in  charge  were  looking  aheadf 


LIFE    OF    FREDERICK    DOUGLASS.  91 

Henry  inquired  of  me  what  he  should  do  with  his  pass. 
I  told  him  to  eat  it  with  his  biscuit,  and  own  nothing ; 
and  we  passed  the  word  around,  "  Own  nothing ; " 
and  "  Own  nothing  !  "  said  we  all.  Our  confidence  in 
each  other  was  unshaken.  We  were  resolved  to  suc- 
ceed or  fail  together,  after  the  calamity  had  befallen 
us  as  much  as  before.  We  were  now  prepared  for 
any  thing.  We  were  to  be  dragged  that  morning 
fifteen  miles  behind  horses,  and  then  to  be  placed  in 
the  Easton  jail.  When  we  reached  St.  Michael's,  we 
underwent  a  sort  of  examination.  We  all  denied  that  we 
ever  intended  to  run  away.  We  did  this  more  to  bring 
out  the  evidence  against  us,  than  from  any  hope  of  get- 
ting clear  of  being  sold ;  for,  as  I  have  said,  we  were 
ready  for  that.  The  fact  was,  we  cared  but  little  where 
we  went,  so  we  went  together.  Our  greatest  concern 
was  about  separation.  We  dreaded  that  more  than 
any  thing  this  side  of  death.  We  found  the  evidence 
against  us  to  be  the  testimony  of  one  person  ;  our 
master  would  not  tell  who  it  was  ;  but  we  came  to  a 
unanimous  decision  among  ourselves  as  to  who  their 
informant  was.  We  were  sent  off  to  the  jail  at  Easton. 
When  we  got  there,  we  were  delivered  up  to  the-sheriff, 
Mr.  Joseph  Graham,  and  by  him  placed  in  jail.  Henry, 
John,  and  myself,  were  placed  in  one  room  together  — 
Charles,  and  Henry  Bailey,  in  another.  Their  object  in 
separating  us  was  to  hinder  concert. 

We  had  been  in  jail  scarcely  twenty  minutes,  when 
a  swarm  of  slave  traders,  and  agents  for  slave  traders, 
flocked  into  jail  to  look  at  us,  and  to  ascertain  if 
we  were  for  sale.  Such  a  set  of  beings  I  never  saw 
before !  I  felt  myself  surrounded  by  so  many  fiends 


!«  NARRATIVE    OF   THE 

from  perdition.  A  band  of  pirates  never  looked  more 
like  their  father,  the  devil.  They  laughed  and  grinned 
over  us,  saying,  "Ah,  my  boys!  we  have  got  you, 
haven't  we  ?  "  And  after  taunting  us  in  various  ways, 
they  one  by  one  went  into  an  examination  of  us,  with 
intent  to  ascertain  our  value.  They  would  impudently 
ask  us  if  we  would  not  like  to  have  them  for  oui 
masters.  We  would  make  them  no  answer,  and  leave 
them  to  find  out  as  best  they  could.  Then  they  would 
curse  and  swear  at  us,  telling  us  that  they  could  take 
the  devil  out  of  us  in  a  very  little  while,  if  we  were 
only  in  their  hands. 

While  in  jail,  we  found  ourselves  in  much  more 
comfortable  quarters  than  we  expected  when  we  went 
there.  We  did  not  get  much  to  eat,  nor  that  which 
was  very  good  ;  but  we  had  a  good  clean  room,  from 
the  windows  of  which  we  could  see  what  was  going  on 
in  the  street,  which  was  very  much  better  than  though 
we  had  been  placed  in  one  of  the  dark,  damp  cells. 
Upon  the  whole,  we  got  along  very  well,  so  far  as  the 
jail  and  its  keeper  were  concerned.  Immediately  after 
the  holidays  were  over,  contrary  to  all  our  expecta- 
tions, Mr.  Hamilton  and  Mr.  Freeland  came  up  to 
Easton,  and  took  Charles,  the  two  Henrys,  and  John, 
out  of  jail,  and  carried  them  home,  leaving  me  alone. 
I  regarded  this  separation  as  a  final  one.  It  caused 
me  more  pain  than  any  thing  else  in  the  whole  transac- 
tion. I  was  ready  for  any  thing  rather  than  separa- 
tion. I  supposed  that  they  had  consulted  together,  and 
had  decided  that,  as  I  was  the  whole  cause  of  the  in- 
tention of  the  others  to  run  away,  it  was  hard  to 
make  the  innocent  suffer  with  the  guilty ;  and  that 


LIFE    OF    FREDERICK   DOUGLASS.  93 

they  had,  therefore,  concluded  to  take  the  others  home, 
and  sell  me,  as  a  warning  to  the  others  that  remained. 
It  is  due  to  the  noble  Henry  to  say,  he  seemed  almost 
as  reluctant  at  leaving  the  prison  as  at  leaving  home 
to  come  to  the  prison.  But  we  knew  we  should,  in  all 
probability,  be  separated,  if  we  were  sold ;  and  since 
he  was  in  their  hands,  he  concluded  to  go  peaceably 
home. 

I  was  now  left  to  my  fate.  I  was  all  alone,  and 
within  the  walls  of  a  stone  prison.  But  a  few  days 
before,  and  I  was  full  of  hope.  I  expected  to  have 
been  safe  in  a  land  of  freedom ;  but  now  I  was  cov- 
ered with  gloom,  sunk  down  to  the  utmost  despair.  I 
thought  the  possibility  of  freedom  was  gone.  I  was 
kept  in  this  way  about  one  week,  at  the  end  of  which, 
Captain  Auld,  my  master,  to  my  surprise  and  utter  as- 
tonishment, came  up,  and  took  me  out,  with  the  inten- 
tion of  sending  me,  with  a  gentleman  of  his  acquaint- 
ance, into  Alabama.  But,  from  some  cause  or  other, 
he  did  not  send  me  to  Alabama,  but  concluded  to  send 
me  back  to  Baltimore,  to  live  again  with  his  brother 
Hugh,  and  to  learn  a  trade. 

Thus,  after  an  absence  of  three  years  and  one 
month,  I  was  once  more  permitted  to  return  to  my  old 
home  at  Baltimore.  My  master  sent  me  away,  be- 
cause there  existed  against  me  a  very  great  prejudice 
in  the  community,  and  he  feared  I  might  be  killed. 

In  a  few  weeks  after  I  went  to  Baltimore,  Master 
Hugh  hired  me  to  Mr.  William  Gardner,  an  extensive 
ship-builder,  on  Fell's  Point.  I  was  put  there  to  learn 
how  to  calk.  It,  however,  proved  a  very  unfavorable 
place  for  the  accomplishment  of  this  object.  Mr 


94  NARRATIVE    OF   THE 

Gardner  was  engaged  that  spring  in  building  two  large 
man-of-war  brigs,  professedly  for  the  Mexican  govern- 
ment. The  vessels  were  to  be  launched  in  the  July 
of  that  year,  and  in  failure  thereof,  Mr.  Gardner  was 
to  lose  a  considerable  sum  ;  so  that  when  I  entered,  all 
was  hurry.  There  was  no  time  to  learn  any  thing. 
Every  man  had  to  do  that  which  he  knew  how  to  do. 
In  entering  the  ship-yard,  my  orders  from  Mr.  Gardner 
were,  to  do  whatever  the  carpenters  commanded  me  to 
do.  This  was  placing  me  at  the  beck  and  call  of  about 
seventy-five  men.  I  was  to  regard  all  these  as  mas- 
ters. Their  word  was  to  be  my  law.  My  situation 
was  a  most  trying  one.  At  times  I  needed  a  dozen 
pair  of  hands.  I  was  called  a  dozen  ways  in  the  space 
of  a  single  minute.  Three  or  four  voices  would  strike 
my  ear  at  the  same  moment.  It  was  — "  Fred.,  come 
help  me  to  cant  this  timber  here."  —  "Fred.,  come 
carry  this  timber  yonder."  —  "  Fred.,  bring  that  roller 
here."  —  "Fred.,  go  get  a  fresh  can  of  water."  — 
"  Fred.,  come  help  saw  off  the  end  of  this  timber."  — 
"Fred.,  go  quick,  and  get  the  crowbar."  —  "Fred., 
hold  on  the  end  of  this  fall."  —  "Fred.,  go  to  the 
blacksmith's  shop,  and  get  a  new  punch."  —  "  Hurra, 
Fred.!  run  and  bring  me  a  cold  chisel." — "I  say, 
Fred.,  bear  a  hand,  and  get  up  a  fire  as  quick  as  light- 
ning under  that  steam-box."  — "  Halloo,  nigger !  come, 
turn  this  grindstone."  — "  Come,  come  !  move,  move  ! 
and  bowse  ibis  timber  forward."  —  "  I  say,  darky,  blast 
your  eyes,  why  don't  you  heat  up  some  pitch  ? "  — 
"Halloo!  halloo!  halloo!"  (Three  voices  at  the 
same  time.)  "  Come  here !  —  Go  there !  —  Hold  oq 


LIFE    OF    FREDERICK    DOUGLASS.  95 

where  you  are !     Damn  you,  if  you  move,  -I'll  knock 
your  brains  out ! " 

This  was  my  school  for  eight  months ;  and  I  might 
have  remained  there  longer,  but  for  a  most  horrid 
fight  I  had  with  four  of  the  white  apprentices,  in  which 
my  left  eye  was  nearly  knocked  out,  and  I  was  hor- 
ribly mangled  in  other  respects.  The  facts  in  the  case 
were  these  :  Until  a  very  little  while  after  I  went  there, 
white  and  black  ship-carpenters  worked  side  by  side, 
and  no  one  seemed  to  see  any  impropriety  in  it.  All 
hands  seemed  to  be  very  well  satisfied.  Many  of  the 
black  carpenters  were  freemen.  Things  seemed  to  be 
going  on  very  well.  All  at  once,  the  white  carpenters 
knocked  off,  and  said  they  would  not  work  with  free 
colored  workmen.  Their  reason  for  this,  as  alleged, 
was,  that  if  free  colored  carpenters  were  encouraged, 
they  would  soon  take  the  trade  into  their  own  hands, 
and  poor  white  men  would  be  thrown  out  of  employ- 
ment. They  therefore  felt  called  upon  at  once  to  put 
a  stop  to  it.  And,  taking  advantage  of  Mr.  Gardner's 
necessities,  they  broke  off,  swearing  they  Would  work 
no  longer,  unless  he  would  discharge  his  black  carpen- 
ters. Now,  though  this  did  not  extend  to  me  in  form, 
it  did  reach  me  in  fact.  My  fellow-apprentices  very 
soon  began  to  feel  it  degrading  to  them  to  work  with 
me.  They  began  to  put  on  airs,  and  talk  about  the 
41  niggers  "  taking  the  country,  saying  we  all  ought  to 
be  killed ;  and,  being  encouraged  by  the  journeymen, 
they  commenced  making  my  condition  as  hard  as  they 
could,  by  hectoring  me  around,  and  sometimes  striking 
me.  I,  of  course,  kept  the  vow  I  made  after  the  fight 
with  Mr.  Covey,  and  struck  back  again,  regardless  of 


96  NARRATIVE    OF    THE 

consequences  ;  and  while  I  kept  them  from  combining, 
I  succeeded  very  well ;  for  I  could  whip  the  whole  of 
them,  taking  them  separately.  They,  however,  at 
length  combined,  and  came  upon  me,  armed  with 
sticks,  stones,  and  heavy  handspikes. ,  One  came  in 
front  with  a  half  brick.  There  was  one  at  each  side 
of  me,  and  one  behind  me.  While  I  was  attending  to 
those  in  front,  and  on  either  side,  the  one  behind  ran 
up  with  the  handspike,  and  struck  me  a  heavy  blow 
upon  the  head.  It  stunned  me.  I  fell,  and  with  this 
they  all  ran  upon  me,  and  fell  to  beating  me  with  their 
fists.  I  let  them  lay  on  for  a  while,  gathering  strength. 
In  an  instant,  I  gave  a  sudden  surge,  and  rose  to  my 
hands  and  knees.  Just  as  I  did  that,  one  of  their  num- 
ber gave  me,  with  his  heavy  boot,  a  powerful  kick  in 
the  left  eye.  My  eyeball  seemed  to  have  burst. 
When  they  saw  my  eye  closed,  and  badly  swollen, 
they  left  me.  With  this  I  seized  the  handspike,  and 
for  a  time  pursued  them.  But  here  the  carpenters  in- 
terfered, and  I  thought  I  might  as  well  give  it  up.  It 
was  impossible  to  stand  my  hand  against  so  many. 
All  this  took  place  in  sight  of  not  less  than  fifty  white 
ship-carpenters,  and  not  one  interposed  a  friendly 
word  ;  but  some  cried,  "  Kill  the  damned  nigger !  Kill 
him !  kill  him  !  He  struck  a  white  person."  I  found 
my  only  chance  for  life  was  in  flight.  I  succeeded  in 
getting  away  without  an  additional  blow,  and  barely  so ; 
for  to  strike  a  white  man  is  death  by  Lynch  law,  —  and 
that  was  the  law  in  Mr.  Gardner's  ship-yard  ;  nor  is 
there  much  of  any  other  out  of  Mr.  Gardner's  ship- 
yard. 

I  went   directly   home,  and   told   the   story  of  my 


UFE  OF  FREDERICK  DOUGLASS.         97 

wrongs  to  Master  Hugh ;  and  I  am  happy  to  say  of  him, 
irreligious  as  he  was,  his  conduct  was  heavenly,  com- 
pared with  that  of  his  brother  Thomas  under  similar 
circumstances.  He  listened  attentively  to  my  narra- 
tion of  the  circumstances  leading  to  the  savage  outrage, 
and  gave  many  proofs  of  his  strong  indignation  at  it. 
The  heart  of  my  once  overkind  mistress  was  again 
melted  into  pity.  My  puffed-out  eye  and  blood-covered 
face  moved  her  to  tears.  She  took  a  chair  by  me, 
washed  the  blood  from  my  face,  and,  with  a  mother's 
tenderness,  bound  up  my  head,  covering  the  wounded 
eye  with  a  lean  piece  of  fresh  beef.  It  was  almost 
compensation  for  my  suffering  to  witness,  once  more,  a 
manifestation  of  kindness  from  this,  my  once  affectionate 
old  mistress.  Master  Hugh  was  very  much  enraged. 
He  gave  expression  to  his  feelings  by  pouring  out 
curses  upon  the  heads  of  those  who  did  the  deed.  As 
soon  as  I  got  a  little  the  better  of  my  bruises,  he  took 
me  with  him  to  Esquire  Watson's,  on  Bond  Street,  to 
see  what  could  be  done  about  the  matter.  Mr.  Watson 
inquired  who  saw  the  assault  committed.  Master  Hugh 
told  him  it  was  done  in  Mr.  Gardner's  ship-yard,  at  mid- 
day, where  there  were  a  large  company  of  men  at  work. 
"  As  to  that,"  he  said,  "  the  deed  was  done,  and  there 
was  no  question  as  to  who  did  it."  His  answer  was, 
he  could  do  nothing  in  the  case,  unless  some  white  man 
would  come  forward  and  testify.  He  could  issue  no 
warrant  on  my  word.  If  I  had  been  killed  in  the  pres- 
ence of  a  thousand  colored  people,  their  testimony 
combined  would  have  been  insufficient  to  have  arrested 
one  of  the  murderers.  Master  Hugh,  for  once,  was 
compelled  to  say  this  state  of  things  was  too  bad.  Of 
7 


98  NARRATIVE    OF   THE 

course,  it  was  impossible  to  get  any  white  man  to 
volunteer  his  testimony  in  my  behalf,  and  against  the 
white  young  men.  Even  those  who  may  have  sympa- 
thized with  me  were  not  prepared  to  do  this.  It 
required  a  degree  of  courage  unknown  to  them  to  do 
so ;  for  just  at  that  time,  the  slightest  manifestation  of 
humanity  toward  a  colored  person  was  denounced  as 
abolitionism,  and  that  name  subjected  its  bearer  to 
frightful  liabilities.  The  watchwords  of  the  bloody- 
minded  in  that  region,  and  in  those  days,  were, "  Damn 
the  abolitionists  ! "  and  "  Damn  the  niggers !  "  There 
was  nothing  done,  and  probably  nothing  would  have 
been  done  if  I  had  been  killed.  Such  was,  and  such 
remains,  the  state  of  things  in  the  Christian  city  of 
Baltimore. 

Master  Hugh,  finding  he  could  get  no  redress,  re 
fused  to  let  me  go  back  again  to  Mr.  Gardner.  He 
kept  me  himself,  and  his  wife  dressed  my  wound  till  1 
was  again  restored  to  health.  He  then  took  me  into 
the  ship-yard  of  which  he  was  foreman,  in  the  employ- 
ment of  Mr.  Walter  Price.  There  I  was  immediately 
set  to  calking,  and  very  soon  learned  the  art  of  using 
my  mallet  and  irons.  In  the  course  of  one  year  from 
the  time  I  left  Mr.  Gardner's,  I  was  able  to  command 
the  highest  wages  given  to  the  most  experienced  calk- 
ers.  I  was  now  of  some  importance  to  my  master.  I 
was  bringing  him  from  six  to  seven  dollars  per  week. 
I  sometimes  brought  him  nine  dollars  per  week :  my 
wages  were  a  dollar  and  a  half  a  day.  After  learning 
how  to  calk,  I  sought  my  own  employment,  made 
my  own  contracts,  and  collected  the  money  which  I 
earned.  My  pathway  became  much  more  smooth 


LIFE    OF    FREDERICK   DOUGLASS.  99 

than  before  ;  my  condition  was  now  much  more  com- 
fortable.  When  I  could  get  no  calking  to  do,  I  did 
nothing.  During  these  leisure  times,  those  old  notions 
about  freedom  would  steal  over  me  again.  When  in 
Mr.  Gardner's  employment,  I  was  kept  in  such  a  per- 
petual whirl  of  excitement,  I  could  think  of  nothing, 
scarcely,  but  my  life  ;  and  in  thinking  of  my  life,  I 
almost  forgot  my  liberty.  I  have  observed  this  in  my 
experience  of  slavery,  —  that  whenever  my  condition 
was  improved,  instead  of  its  increasing  my  contentment, 
it  only  increased  my  desire  to  be  free,  and  set  me  to 
thinking  of  plans  to  gain  my  freedom.  I  have  found 
that,  to  make  a  contented  slave,  it  is  necessary  to  make 
a  thoughtless  one.  It  is  necessary  to  darken  his  moral 
and  mental  vision,  and,  as  far  as  possible,  to  annihilate 
the  power  of  reason.  He  must  be  able  to  detect  no  in- 
consistencies in  slavery  ;  he  must  be  made  to  feel  that 
slavery  is  right ;  and  he  can  be  brought  to  that  only 
when  he  ceases  to  be  a  man. 

I  was  now  getting,  as  I  have  said,  one  dollar  and 
fifty  cents  per  day.  I  contracted  for  it ;  I  earned  it ; 
it  was  paid  to  me ;  it  was  rightfully  my  owh  ;  yet, 
upon  each  returning  Saturday  night,  I  was  compelled 
to  deliver  every  cent  of  that  money  to  Master  Hugh. 
And  why  ?  Not  because  he  earned  it,  —  not  because 
he  had  any  hand  in  earning  it,  —  not  because  I  owed  it 
to  him,  —  nor  because  he  possessed  the  slightest  shadow 
of  a  right  to  it ;  but  solely  because  he  had  the  power  to 
compel  me  to  give  it  up.  The  right  of  the  grim-vis- 
aged  pirate  upon  the  high  seas  is  exactly  the  same. 


100  NARRATIVE    OF   THE 


CHAPTER  XL 

I  NOW  come  to  that  part  of  my  life  during  which  1 
planned,  3,nd  finally  succeeded  in  making,  my  escape 
from  slavery.  But  before  narrating  any  of  the  pe- 
culiar circumstances,  I  deem  it  proper  to  make  known 
my  intention  not  to  state  all  the  facts  connected  with 
the  transaction.  My  reasons  for  pursuing  this  course 
may  be  understood  from"  the  following:  First,  were 
I  to  give  a  minute  statement  of  all  the  facts,  it  is  not 
only  possible,  but  quite  probable,  that  others  would 
thereby  be  involved  in  the  most  embarrassing  difficul- 
ties. Secondly,  such  a  statement  would  most  undoubt- 
edly induce  greater  vigilance  on  the  part  of  slave- 
holders than  has  existed  heretofore  among  them  ; 
which  would,  of  course,  be  the  means  of  guarding  a 
door  whereby  some  dear  brother  bondrrian  might 
escape  his  galling  chains.  I  deeply  regret  the  neces- 
sity that  impels  me  to  suppress  any  thing  of  impor- 
tance connected  with  my  experience  in  slavery.  It 
would  afford  me  great  pleasure  indeed,  as  well  as  ma- 
terially add  to  the  interest  of  my  narrative,  were  I  at 
liberty  to  gratify  a  curiosity,  which  I  know  exists  in  the 
minds  of  many,  by  an  accurate  statement  of  all  the 
facts  pertaining  to  my  most  fortunate  escape.  But  I 
must  deprive  myself  of  this  pleasure,  and  the  curious  of 
the  gratification  which  such  a  statement  would  afford. 
I  would  allow  myself  to  suffer  under  the  greatest  impu- 
tations which  evil-minded  men  might  suggest,  rather 
than  exculpate  myself,  and  thereby  run  the  hazard 


LIFE    OF    FREDERICK    DOUGLASS.  101 

of  closing  the  slightest  avenue  by  which  a  brother 
slave  might  clear  himself  of  the  chains  and  fetters  of 
slavery. 

I  have  never  approved  of  the  very  public  manner  in 
which  some  of  our  western  friends  have  conducted 
what  they  call  the  underground  railroad,  but  which,  I 
think,  by  their  open  declarations,  has  been  made  most 
emphatically  th'e  upperground  railroad.  I  honor  thdso 
good  men  and  women  for  their  noble  daring,  and  ap- 
plaud them  for  willingly  subjecting  themselves  to 
bloody  persecution,  by  openly  avowing  their  participa- 
tion in  the  escape  of  slaves.  I,  however,  can  see  very 
little  good  resulting  from  such  a  course,  either  to  them- 
selves or  the  slaves  escaping ;  while,  upon  the  other 
hand,  I  see  and  feel  assured  that  those  open  declara- 
tions are  a  positive  evil  to  the  slaves  remaining,  who 
are  seeking  to  escape.  They  do  nothing  towards  en- 
lightening the  slave,  whilst  they  do  much  towards  en- 
lightening the  master.  They  stimulate  him  to  greater 
watchfulness,  and  enhance  his  power  to  capture  his 
slave.  We  owe  something  to  the  slaves  south  of  the 
line  as  well  as  to  those  north  of  it ;  and  in  aiding  the 
latter  on  their  way  to  freedom,  we  should  be  careful  to 
do  nothing  which  would  be  likely  to  hinder  the  former 
from  escaping  from  slavery.  I  would  keep  the  merci- 
less slaveholder  profoundly  ignorant  of  the  means  of 
flight  adopted  by  the  slave.  I  would  leave  him  to  im- 
agine himself  surrounded  by  myriads  of  invisible  tor- 
mentors, ever  ready  to  snatch  from  his  infernal  grasp 
his  trembling  prey.  Let  him  be  left  to  feel  his  way  in 
the  dark  ;  let  darkness  commensurate  with  his  crime 
hover  over  him  ;  and  let  him  feel  that  at  every  step  he 


102  NARRATIVE    OF   THE 

takes,  in  pursuit  of  the  flying  bondman,  he  is  running 
the  frightful  risk  of  having  his  hot  brains  dashed  out 
by  an  invisible  agency.  Let  us  render  the  tyrant  no 
aid  ;  let  us  not  hold  the  light  by  which  he  can  trace 
the  footprints  of  our  flying  brother.  But  enough  of 
this.  I  will  now  proceed  to  the  statement  of  those 
facts,  connected  with  my  escape,  for  which  I  am  alone 
responsible,  and  for  which  no  one  can  be  made  to  suffer 
but  myself. 

In  the  early  part  of  the  year  1838, 1  became  quite 
restless.  I  could  see  no  reason  why  I  should,  at  the 
end  of  each  week,  pour  the  reward  of  my  toil  into  the 
purse  of  my  master.  When  I  carried  to  him  my 
weekly  wages,  he  would,  after  counting  the  money, 
look  me  in  the  face  with  a  robber-like  fierceness,  and 
ask,  "  Is  this  all  ? "  He  was  satisfied  with  nothing 
less  than  the  last  cent.  He  would,  however,  when  I 
made  him  six  dollars,  sometimes  give  me  six  cents,  to 
encourage  me.  It  had  the  opposite  effect.  I  regarded 
it  as  a  sort  of  admission  of  my  right  to  the  whole. 
The  fact  that  he  gave  me  any  part  of  my  wages  was 
proof,  to  my  mind,  that  he  believed  me  entitled  to  the 
whole  of  them.  I  always  felt  worse  for  having  received 
any  thing ;  for  I  feared  that  the  giving  me  a  few  cents 
would  ease  his  conscience,  and  make  him  feel  himself 
to  be  a  pretty  honorable  sort  of  robber.  My  discon- 
tent grew  upon  me.  I  was  ever  on  the  look-out  for 
means  of  escape  ;  and,  finding  no  direct  means,  I  de- 
termined to  try  to  hire  my  time,  with  a  view  of  getting 
money  with  which  to  make  my  escape.  In  the 
spring  of  1838,  when  Master  Thomas  came  to  Balti- 
more to  purchase  his  spring  goods,  I  got  an  opporta- 


LIFE    OF    FREDERICK   DOUGLASS.  103 

nity,  and  applied  to  him  to  allow  me  to  hire  my  time. 
He  unhesitatingly  refused  my  request,  and  told  me  this 
was  another  stratagem  by  which  to  escape.  He  told 
me  I  could  go  nowhere  but  that  he  could  get  me  ;  and 
that,  in  the  event  of  my  running  away,  he  should  spare 
no  pains  in  his  efforts  to  catch  me.  He  exhorted  me 
to  content  myself,  and  be  obedient.  He  told  me,  if  I 
would  be  happy,  I  must  lay  out  no  plans  for  the 
future.  He  said,  if..  I  behaved  myself  properly,  he 
would  take  care  of  me.  Indeed,  he  advised  me  to  com- 
plete thoughtlessness  of  the  future,  and  taught  me  to 
depend  solely  upon  him  for  happiness.  He  seemed  to 
see  fully  the  pressing  necessity  of  setting  aside  my  in- 
tellectual nature,  in  order  to  contentment  in  slavery. 
But  in  spite  of  him,  and  even  in  spite  of  myself,  I  con- 
tinued to  think,  and  to  think  about  the  injustice  of  my 
enslavement,  and  the  means  of  escape. 

About  two  months  after  this,  I  applied  to  Master 
Hugh  for  the  privilege  of  hiring  my  time.  He  was 
not  acquainted  with  the  fact  that  I  had  applied  to  Mas- 
ter Thomas,  and  had  been  refused.  He  too,  at  first, 
seemed  disposed  to  refuse ;  but,  after  some  reflection, 
he  granted  me  the  privilege,  and  proposed  the  follow- 
ing terms :  I  was  to  be  allowed  all  my  time,  make  all 
contracts  with  those  for  whom  I  worked,  and  find  my 
own  employment ;  and,  in  return  for  this  liberty,  I  was 
to  pay  him  three  dollars  at  the  end  of  each  week ;  find 
myself  in  calking  tools,  and  in  board  and  clothing. 
My  board  was  two  dollars  and  a  half  per  week.  This, 
with  the  wear  and  tear  of  clothing  and  calking  tools, 
made  my  regular  expenses  about  six  dollars  per  week. 
This  amount  I  was  compelled  to  make  up,  or  relinquish 


104  NARRATIVE    OP   THE 

the  privilege  of  hiring  my  time.  Rain  or  shine,  work 
or  no  work,  at  the  end  of  each  week  the  money  must 
be  forthcoming,  or  I  must  give  up  my  privilege.  This 
arrangement,  it  will  be  perceived,  was  decidedly  in 
my  master's  favor.  It  relieved  him  of  all  need  of 
looking  after  me.  His  money  was  sure.  He  received 
all  the  benefits  of  slaveholding  without  its  evils  ;  while 
I  endured  all  the  evils  of  a  slave,  and  suffered  all  the 
care  and  anxiety  of  a  freeman.  I  found  it  a  hard  bar- 
gain. But,  hard  as  it  was,  I  thought  it  better  than  the 
old  mode  of  getting  along.  It  was  a  step  towards 
freedom. to  be  allowed  to  bear  the  responsibilities  of  a 
freeman,  and  I  was  determined  to  hold  on  upon  it.  I 
bent  myself  to  the  work  of  making  money.  I  was 
ready  to  work  at  night  as  well  as  day,  and  by  the  most 
untiring  perseverance  and  industry,  I  made  enough  to 
meet  my  expenses,  and  lay  up  a  little  money  every 
week.  I  went  on  thus  from  May  till  August.  Master 
Hugh  then  refused  to  allow  me  to  hire  my  time  longer. 
The  ground  for  his  refusal  was  a  failure  on  my  part, 
one  Saturday  night,  to  pay  him  for  my  week's  time. 
This  failure  was  occasioned  by  my  attending  a  camp 
meeting  about  ten  miles  from  Baltimore.  During  the 
week,  I  had  entered  into  an  engagement  with  a  number 
of  young  friends  to  start  from  Baltimore  to  the  camp 
ground  early  Saturday  evening  ;  and  being  detained 
by  my  employer,  I  was  unable  to  get  down  to  Master 
Hugh's  without  disappointing  the  company.  I  knew 
that  Master  Hugh  was  in  no  special  need  of  the  money 
that  night,  I  therefore  decided  to  go  to  camp  meeting, 
and  upon  my  return  pay  him  the  three  dollars.  I 
staid  at  the  camp  meeting  one  day  longer  than  I  in- 


LIFE    OF    FREDERICK    DOUGLASS.  105 

-. 

tended  when  I  left.  But  as  soon  as  I  returned,  I  called 
upon  him  to  pay  him  what  he  considered  his  due.  I 
found  him  very  angry  ;  he  could  scarce  restrain  his 
wrath.  He  said  he  had  a  great  mind  to  give  me  a 
severe  whipping.  He  wished  to  know  how  I  dared  go 
out  of  the  city  without  asking  his  permission.  I  told 
him  I  hired  my  time,  and  while  I  paid  him  the  price 
which  he  asked  for  it,  I  did  not  know  that  I  was  bound 
to  ask  him  when  and  where  I  should  go.  This  reply 
troubled  him ;  and,  after  reflecting  a  few  moments,  he 
turned  to  me,  and  said  I  should  hire  my  time  no  long- 
er ;  that  the  next  thing  he  should  know  of,  I  would  be 
running  away.  Upon  the  same  plea,  he  told  me  to 
bring  my  tools  and  clothing  home  forthwith.  I  did  so  ; 
but  instead  of  seeking  work,  as  I  had  been  accustomed  to 
do  previously  to  hiring  my  time,  I  spent  the  whole 
week  without  the  performance  of  a  single  stroke  of 
work.  I  did  this  in  retaliation.  Saturday  night,  he 
called  upon  me  as  usual  for  my  week's  wages.  I  told 
him  I  had  no  wages ;  I  had  done  no  work  that  week. 
Here  we  were  upon  the  point  of  coming  to  blows. 
He  raved,  and  swore  his  determination  to  get  hold  of 
me.  I  did  not  allow  myself  a  single  word  ;  but  was 
resolved,  if  he  laid  the  weight  of  his  hand  upon  me,  it 
should  be  blow  for  blow.  He  did  not  strike  me,  but 
told  me  that  he  would  find  me  in  constant  employ- 
ment in  future.  I  thought  the  matter  over  during 
the  next  day,  Sunday,  and  finally  resolved  upon 
the  third  day  of  September,  as  the.  day  upon  which  I 
would  make  a  second  attempt  to  secure  my  freedom. 
I  now  had  three  weeks  during  which  to  prepare  for  my 
journey.  Early  on  Monday  morning,  before  Master 


106  NARRATIVE    OF    THE 

Hugh  had  time  to  make  any  engagement  for  me,  I 
went  out  and  got  employment  of  Mr.  Butler,  at  his 
ship-yard  near  the  drawbridge,  upon  what  is  called 
the  City  Block,  thus  making  it  unnecessary  for  him  to 
seek  employment  for  me.  At  the  end  of  the  week,  I 
brought  him  between  eight  and  nine  dollars.  He 
seemed  very  well  pleased,  and  asked  me  why  I  did  not 
do  the  same  the  week  before.  He  little  knew  what 
my  plans  were.  My  object  in  working  steadily  was  to 
remove  any  suspicion  he  might  entertain  of  my  in- 
tent to  run  away ;  and  in  this  I  succeeded  admirably. 
I  suppose  he  thought  I  was  never  better  satisfied  with 
my  condition  than  at  the  very  time  during  which  I  was 
planning  my  escape.  The  second  week  passed,  and 
again  I  carried  him  my  full  wages;  and  so  well 
pleased  was  he,  that  he  gave  me  twenty-five  cents, 
(quite  a  large  sum  for  a  slaveholder  to  give  a  slave,) 
and  bade  me  to  make  a  good  use  of  it.  I  told  him  I 
would. 

Things  went  on  without  very  smoothly  indeed,  but 
within  there  was  trouble.  It  is  impossible  for  me  to 
describe  my  feelings  as  the  time  of  my  contemplated 
start  drew  near.  I  had  a  number  of  warm-hearted 
friends  in  Baltimore,  —  friends  that  I  loved  almost  as  1 
did  my  life,  —  and  the  thought  of  being  separated  from 
them  forever  was  painful  beyond  expression.  It  is  my 
opinion  that  thousands  would  escape  from  slavery,  who 
now  remain,  but  for  the  strong  cords  of  affection  that 
bind  them  to  thejr  friends.  The  thought  of  leaving 
my  friends  was  decidedly  the  most  painful  thought  with 
which  I  had  to  contend.  The  love  of  them  was  my 
tender  point,  and  shook  my  decision  more  than  all 


LIFE    OF    FREDERICK    DOUGLASS.  107 

things  else.  Besides  the  pain  of  separation,  the  dreaa 
and  apprehension  of  a  failure  exceeded  what  I  had 
experienced  at  my  first  attempt.  The  appalling  de- 
feat I  then  sustained  returned  to  torment  me.  I 
felt  assured  that,  if  I  failed  in  this  attempt,  my  case 
would  be  a  hopeless  one  —  it  would  seal  my  fate  as  a 
slave  forever.  I  could  not  hope  to  get  off  with  any 
thing  less  than  the  severest  punishment,  and  being 
placed  beyond  the  means  of  escape.  It  required  no 
very  vivid  imagination  to  depict  the  most  frightful 
scenes  through  which  I  should  have  to  pass,  in  case  I 
failed.  The  wretchedness  of  slavery,  and  the  blessed- 
ness of  freedom,  were  perpetually  before  me.  It  was 
life  and  death  with  me.  But  I  remained  firm,  and,  ac- 
cording to  my  resolution,  on  the  third  day  of  Septem- 
ber, 1838,  I  left  my  chains,  and  succeeded  in  reach- 
ing New  York  without  the  -slightest  interruption  of  any 
kind.  How  I  did  so,  —  what  means  I  adopted,  —  what 
direction  I  travelled,  and  by  what  mode  of  conveyance, 
—  I  must  leave  unexplained,  for  the  reasons  before 
mentioned. 

I  have  been  frequently  asked  how  I  felt  when  I  found 
myself  in  a  free  State.  I  have  never  been  able  to  an- 
swer the  question  with  any  satisfaction  to  myself.  It 
was  a  moment  of  the  highest  excitement  I  ever  expe- 
rienced. I  suppose  I  felt  as  one  may  imagine  the  un- 
armed mariner  to  feel  when  he  is  rescued  by  a  friendly 
man-of-war  from  the  pursuit  of  a  pirate.  In  writing 
to  a  dear  friend,  immediately  after  my  arrival  at  New 
York,  I  said  I  felt  like  one  who  had  escaped  a  den  of 
hungry  lions.  This  state  of  mind,  however,  very  soon 
subsided  ;  and  I  was  again  seized  with  a  feeling  of  great 


108  NARRATIVE    OF    THE 

insecurity  and  loneliness.  I  was  yet  liable  to  be  taken 
back,  and  subjected  to  all  the  tortures  of  slavery.  This 
in  itself  was  enough  to  damp  the  ardor  of  my  enthu- 
siasm. But  the  loneliness  overcame  me.  There  I 
was  in  the  midst  of  thousands,  and  yet  a  perfect  stran- 
ger ;  without  home  and  without  friends,  in  the  midst 
of  thousands  of  my  own  brethren  —  children  of  a  com- 
mon Father,  and  yet  I  dared  not  to  unfold  to  any  one  of 
them  my  sad  condition.  I  was  afraid  to  speak  to  any 
one  for  fear  of  speaking  to  the  wrong  one,  and  thereby 
falling  into  the  hands  of  money-loving  kidnappers, 
whose  business  it  was  to  lie  in  wait  for  the  panting  fu- 
gitive, as  the  ferocious  beasts  of  the  forest  lie  in  wait 
for  their  prey.  The  motto  which  I  adopted  when  I 
started  from  slavery  was  this —  "  Trust  no  man  !  "  I 
saw  in  every  white  man  an  enemy,  and  in  almost 
every  colored  man  cause  fpr  distrust.  It  was  a  most 
painful  situation  ;  and,  to  understand  it,  one  must  needs 
experience  it,  or  imagine  himself  in  similar  circum- 
stances. Let  him  be  a  fugitive  slave  in  a  strange 
land  —  a  land  given  up  to  be  the  hunting-ground  for 
slaveholders  —  whose  inhabitants  are  legalized  kidnap- 
pers —  where  he  is  every  moment  subjected  to  the 
terrible  liability  of  being  seized  upon  by  his  fellow- 
men,  as  the  hideous  crocodile  seizes  upon  his  prey  !  — 
1  say,  let  him  place  himself  in  my  situation  —  without 
home  or  friends  —  without  money  or  credit  —  wanting 
shelter,  and  no  one  to  give  it  —  wanting  bread,  and  no 
money  to  buy  it,  —  and  at  the  same  time  let  him  feel 
that  he  is  pursued  by  merciless  men-hunters,  and  in 
total  darkness  as  to  what  to  do,  where  to  go,  or 
where  to  stay,  —  perfectly  helpless  both  as  to  the 


LIFE  OF  FREDERICK  DOUGLASS.        109 

means  of  defence  and  means  of  escape,  —  in  the 
midst  of  plenty,  yet  suffering  the  terrible  gnawings  of 
hunger,  —  in  the  midst  of  houses,  yet  having  no  home, 
—  among  fellow-men,  yet  feeling  as  if  in  the  midst  of 
wild  beasts,  whose  greediness  to  swallow  up  the  trem- 
bling and  half-famished  fugitive  is  only  equalled  by 
that  with  which  the  monsters  of  the  deep  swallow  up 
the  helpless  fish  upon  which  they  subsist,  —  I  say,  let 
him  be  placed  in  this  most  trying  situation,  —  the  situ- 
ation in  which  I  was  placed,  —  then,  and  not  till  then, 
will  he  fully  appreciate  the  hardships  of,  and  know 
how  to  sympathize  with,  the  toil-worn  and  whip-scarred 
fugitive,  slave. 

Thank  Heaven,  I  remained  but  a  short  time  in  this 
distressed  situation.  I  was  relieved  from  it  by  the  hu- 
mane hand  of  Mr.  DAVID  RUGGLES,  whose  vigilance, 
kindness,  and  perseverance,  I  shall  never  forget.  I  am 
glad  of  an  opportunity  to  express,  as  far  as  words  can, 
the  love  and  gratitude  I  bear  him.  Mr.  Ruggles  is 
now  afflicted  with  blindness,  and  is  himself  in  need  of 
the  same  kind  offices  which  he  was  once  so  forward  in 
the  performance  of  toward  others.  I  had  been  in  New 
York  but  a  few  days,  when  Mr.  Ruggles  sought  me  out, 
and  very  kindly  took  me  to  his  boarding-house  at  the 
corner  of  Church  and  Lespenard  Streets.  Mr.  Rug- 
gles was  then  very  deeply  engaged  in  the  memorable 
Darg  case,  as  well  as  attending  to  a  number  of  other 
fugitive  slaves,  devising  ways  and  means  for  their  suc- 
cessful escape  ;  and,  though  watched  and  hemmed  in  on 
almost  every  side,  he  seemed  to  be  more  than  a  match 
for  his  enemies. 

Very  soon  after  I  went  to  Mr.  Ruggles,  he  wished 


110  NARRATIVE    OF    THE 

to  know  of  me  where  I  wanted  to  go ;  as  he  deemed  it 
unsafe  for  me  to  remain  in  New  York.  I  told  him  I 
was  a  calker,  and  should  like  to  go  where  I  could  get 
work.  I  thought  of  going  to  Canada  ;  but  he  decided 
against  it,  and  in  favor  of  my  going  to  New  Bedford, 
thinking  I  should  be  able  to  get  work  there  at  my 
trade.  At  this  time,  Anna,*  my  intended  wife,  came 
on ;  for  I  wrote  to  her  immediately  after  my  arrival  at 
New  York,  (notwithstanding  my  homeless,  houseless, 
and  helpless  condition,)  informing  her  of  my  successful 
flight,  and  wishing  her  to  come  on  forthwith.  In  a 
few  days  after  her  arrival,  Mr.  Ruggles  called  in  the 
Rev.  J.  W.  C.  Pennington,  who,  in  the  presence  of  Mr. 
Ruggles,  Mrs.  Michaels,  and  two  or  three  others,  per- 
formed the  marriage  ceremony,  and  gave  us  a  certifi- 
cate, of  which  the  following  is  an  exact  copy :  — 

"  THIS  may  certify,  that  I  joined  together  in  holy 
matrimony  Frederick  Johnsont  and  Anna  Murray,  as 
man  and  wife,  in  the  presence  of  Mr.  David  Ruggles 
and  Mrs.  Michaels. 

"  JAMES  W.  C.  PENNINGTON. 

"  New  York,  Sept.  15,  1838." 

Upon  receiving  this  certificate,  and  a  five-dollar  bill 
from  Mr.  Ruggles,  I  shouldered  one  part  of  our  bag- 
gage, and  Anna  took  up  the  other,  and  we  set  out 
forthwith  to  take  passage  on  board  of  the  steamboat 
John  W.  Richmond  for  Newport,  on  our  way  to  New 

*  She  was  free. 

i  1  had  changed  my  name  from  Frederick  Bailey  to  that 
of  Johnson. 


LIFE    OF    FREDERICK    DOUGLASS.  Ill 

Bedford.  Mr.  Ruggles  gave  me  a  letter  to  a  Mr.  Shaw 
in  Newport,  and  told  me,  in  case  my  money  did  not 
serve  me  to  New  Bedford,  to  stop  in  Newport  and  ob- 
tain further  assistance ;  but  upon  our  arrival  at  New- 
port, we  were  so  anxious  to  get  to  a  place  of  safety,  that, 
notwithstanding  we  lacked  the  necessary  money  to  pay 
our  fare,  we  decided  to  take  seats  in  the  stage,  and 
promise  to  pay  when  we  got  to  New  Bedford.  We 
were  encouraged  to  do  this  by  two  excellent  gentle- 
men, residents  of  New  Bedford,  whose  names  I  after- 
ward ascertained  to  be  Joseph  Ricketsori  and  William 
C.  Taber.  They  seemed  at  once  to  understand  our 
circumstances,  and  gave  us  such  assurance  of  their 
friendliness  as  put  us  fully  at  ease  in  their  presence. 
It  was  good  indeed  to  meet  with  such  friends,  at  such  a 
time.  Upon  reaching  New  Bedford,  we  were  directed 
to  the  house  of  Mr.  Nathan  Johnson,  by  whom  we 
were  kindly  received,  and  hospitably  provided  for. 
Both  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Johnson  took  a  deep  and  lively  in- 
terest in  our  welfare.  They  proved  themselves  quite 
worthy  of  the  name  of  abolitionists.  When  the  stage- 
driver  found  us  unable  to  pay  our  fare,  he  held  on 
upon  our  baggage  as  security  for  the  debt.  I  had  but 
to  mention  the  fact  to  Mr.  Johnson,  and  he  forthwith 
advanced  the  money. 

We  now  began  to  feel  a  degree  of  safety,  and  to 
prepare  ourselves  for  the  duties  and  responsibilities  of 
a  life  of  freedom.  On  the  morning  after  our  arrival  at 
New  Bedford,  while  at  the  breakfast-table,  the  question 
arose  as  to  what  name  I  should  be  called  by.  The 
name  given  me  by  my  mother  was,  "  Frederick  Au- 
gustus Washington  Bailey."  I,  however,  had  dispensed 


112  NARRATIVE    OF   THE 

with  the  two  middle  names  long  before  I  left  Maryland 
so  that  I  was  generally  known  by  the  name  of  "  Fred- 
erick Bailey."  I  started  from  Baltimore  bearing  the 
name  of  "  Stanley."  When  I  got  to  New  York,  I 
again  changed  my  name  to  "  Frederick  Johnson,"  and 
thought  that  would  be  the  last  change.  But  when  I 
got  to  New  Bedford,  I  found  it  necessary  again  to 
change  my  name.  The  reason  of  this  necessity  was, 
that  there  were  so  many  Johnsons  in  New  Bedford,  it 
was  already  quite  difficult  to  distinguish  between  them. 
1  gave  Mr.  Johnson  the  privilege  of  choosing  me  a 
name,  but  told  him  he  must  not  take  from  me  the 
name  of  "  Frederick."  I  must  hold  on  to  that,  to  pre- 
serve a  sense  of  my  identity.  Mr.  Johnson  had  just 
been  reading  the  "  Lady  of  the  Lake,"  and  at  once 
suggested  that  rny  name  be  "  Douglass."  From  that 
time  until  now  I  have  been  called  "  Frederick  Doug- 
lass ;  "  and  as  I  am  more  widely  known  by  that  name 
than  by  either  of  the  others,  I  shall  continue  to  use  it 
as  my  own. 

I  was  quite  disappointed  at  the  general  appearance 
of  things  in  New  Bedford.  The  impression  which  I 
had  received  respecting  the  character  and  condition  of 
the  people  of  the  north,  I  found  to  be  singularly  erro- 
neous. I  had  very  strangely  supposed,  while  in  slavery, 
that  few  of  the  comforts,  and  scarcely  any  of  tho 
luxuries,  of  life  were  enjoyed  at  the  north,  compared 
with  what  were  enjoyed  by  the  slaveholders  of  the 
south.  I  probably  came  to  this  conclusion  from  the 
fact  that  northern  people  owned  no  slaves.  I  supposed 
that  they  were  about  upon  a  level  with  the  non-slave- 
holding  population  of  the  south.  I  knew  they  were  ex- 


LIFE    OF    FREDERICK    DOUGLASS.  113 

ceedingly  poor,  and  I  had  been  accustomed  to  regard 
their  poverty  as  the  necessary  consequence  of  their 
being  non-slaveholders.  I  had  somehow  imbibed  the 
opinion  that,  in  the  absence  of  slaves,  there  could  be 
no  wealth,  and  very  little  refinement.  And  upon  com- 
ing to  the  north,  I  expected  to  meet  with  a  rough, 
hard-handed,  and  uncultivated  population,  living  in  the 
most  Spartan-like  simplicity,  knowing  nothing  of  the 
ease,  luxury,  pomp,  and  grandeur  of  southern  slave- 
holders. Such  being  my  conjectures,  any  one  ac- 
quainted with  the  appearance  of  New  Bedford  may 
very  readily  infer  kow  palpably  I  must  have  seen  my 
mistake. 

In  the  afternoon  of  the  day  when  I  reached  New 
Bedford,  I  visited  the  wharves,  to  take  a  view  of 
the  shipping.  Here  I  found  myself  surrounded  with 
the  strongest  proofs  of  wealth.  Lying  at  the  wharves, 
and  riding  in  the  stream,  I  saw  many  ships  of  the 
finest  model,  in  the  best  order,  and  of  the  largest  size. 
Upon  the  right  and  left,  I  was  walled  in  by  granite 
warehouses  of  the  widest  dimensions,  stowed  to  their 
utmost  capacity  with  the  necessaries  and  comforts  of 
life.  Added  to  this,  almost  every  body  seemed  to  be 
at  work,  but  noiselessly  so,  compared  with  what  I  had 
been  accustomed  to  in  Baltimore.  There  were  no 
loud  songs  heard  from  those  engaged  in  loading  and 
unloading  ships.  I  heard  no  deep  oaths  or  horrid 
curses  on  the  laborer.  I  saw  no  whipping  of  men ; 
but  all  seemed  to  go  smoothly  on.  Every  man  ap- 
peared to  understand  his  work,  and  went  at  it  with  a 
sober,  yet  cheerful  earnestness,  which  betokened  the 
deep  interest  which  he  felt  in  what  he  was  doing,  a§ 
8 


114  NARRATIVE    OF    THE 

well  as  a  sense  of  his  own  dignity  as  a  man.  To  me 
this  looked  exceedingly  strange.  From  the  wharves  I 
strolled  around  and  over  the  town,  gazing  with  won- 
der and  admiration  at  the  splendid  churches,  beautiful 
dwellings,  and  finely-cultivated  gardens;  evincing  an 
amount  of  wealth,  comfort,  taste,  and  refinement,  such 
as  I  had  never  seen  in  any  part  of  slaveholding 
Maryland. 

Every  thing  looked  clean,  new,  and  beautiful.  I  saw 
few  or  no  dilapidated  houses,  with  poverty-stricken 
inmates;  no  half-naked  children  and  barefooted  women, 
such  as  I  had  been  accustomed  to  see  in  Hillsborough, 
Easton,  St.  Michael's,  and  Baltimore.  The  people 
looked  more  able,  stronger,  healthier,  and  happier, 
than  those  of  Maryland.  I  was  for  once  made  glad  by 
a  view  of  extreme  wealth,  without  being  saddened  by 
seeing  extreme  poverty.  But  the  most  astonishing  as 
well  as  the  most  interesting  thing  to  me  was  the  con- 
dition of  the  colored  people,  a  great  many  of  whom, 
like  myself,  had  escaped  thither  as  a  refuge  from  the 
hunters  of  men.  I  found  many,  who  had  not  been 
seven  years  out  of  their  chains,  Jiving  in  finer  houses, 
and  evidently  enjoying  more  of  the  comforts  of  life, 
than  the  average  of  slaveholders  in  Maryland.  I  will 
venture  to  assert  that  my  friend  Mr.  Nathan  Johnson 
(of  whom  I  can  say  with  a  grateful  heart,  "  I  was  hun- 
gry, and  he  gave  me  meat ;  I  was  thirsty,  and  he  gave 
me  drink ;  I  was  a  stranger,  and  he  took  me  in  ")  lived 
in  a  neater  house  ;  dined  at  a  better  table  ;  took,  paid  for, 
and  read,  more  newspapers;  better  understood  the 
moral,  religious,  and  political  character  of  the  nation,  — 
than  nine  tenths  of  the  slaveholders  in  Talbot  county 


LIFE    OF    FREDERICK   DOUGLASS.  115 

Maryland.  Yet  Mr.  Johnson  was  a  working  man.  His 
hands  were  hardened  by  toil,  and  not  his  alone,  but 
those  also  of  Mrs.  Johnson.  I  found  the  colored 
people  much  more  spirited  than  I  had  supposed  they 
would  be.  I  found  among  them  a  determination  to 
protect  each  other  from  the  blood-thirsty  kidnapper,  at 
all  hazards.  Soon  after  my  arrival,  I  was  told  of  a 
circumstance  which  illustrated  their  spirit.  A  colored 
man  and  a  fugitive  slave  were  on  unfriendly  terms. 
The  former  was  heard  to  threaten  the  latter  with  in- 
forming his  master  of  his  whereabouts.  Straightway 
a  meeting  was  called  among  the  colored  people,  under 
the  stereotyped  notice,  "  Business  of  importance ! " 
The  betrayer  was  invited  to  attend.  The  people  came 
at  the  appointed  hour,  and  organized  the  meeting  by 
appointing  a  very  religious  old  gentleman  as  president, 
who,  I  believe,  made  a  prayer,  after  which  he  addressed 
the  meeting  as  follows:  "  Friends,  we  have  got  him 
here,  and  I  would  recommend  that  you  young  men 
just  take  him  outside  the  door,  and  kill  him  !  "  With 
this,  a  number  of  them  bolted  at  him  ;  but  they  were 
intercepted  by  some  more  timid  than  themselves,  and 
the  betrayer  escaped  their  vengeance,  and  has  not 
been  seen  in  New  Bedford  since.  I  believe  there 
have  been  no  more  such  threats,  and  should  there  be 
hereafter,  I  doubt  not  that  death  would  be  the  con- 
sequence. 

I  found  employment,  the  third  day  after  my  arrival, 
in  stowing  a  sloop  with  a  load  of  oil.  It  was  new, 
dirty,  and  hard  work  for  me ;  but  I  went  at  it  with  a 
glad  heart  and  a  willing  hand.  I  was  now  my  own 
master.  It  was  a  happy  moment,  the  rapture  of  which 


116  NARRATIVE    OF   THE 

can  be  understood  only  by  those  who  have  been  slaves. 
It  was  the  first  work,  the  reward  of  which  was  to  be 
entirely  my  own.  There  was  no  Master  Hugh  staid- 
ing  ready,  the  moment  I  earned  the  money,  to  rob  me 
of  it.  I  worked  that  day  with  a  pleasure  I  had  never 
before  experienced.  I  was  at  work  for  myself  and 
newly-married  wife.  It  was  to  me  the  starting-point 
of  a  new  existence.  When  I  got  through  with  that 
job,  I  went  in  pursuit  of  a  job  of  calking ;  but  such  was 
the  strength  of  prejudice  against  color,  among  the 
white  calkers,  that  they  refused  to  work  with  me,  and 
of  course  I  could  get  no  employment.*  Finding  my 
trade  of  no  immediate  benefit,  I  threw  off  rny  calking 
habiliments,  and  prepared  myself  to  do  any  kind  of 
work  I  could  get  to  do.  Mr.  Johnson  kindly  let  me 
have  his  wood-horse  and  saw,  and  I  very  soon  found 
myself  a  plenty  of  work.  There  was  no  work  too 
hard  —  none  too  dirty.  I  was  ready  to  saw  wood, 
shovel  coal,  carry  the  hod,  sweep  the  chimney,  or  roll 
oil  casks,  —  all  of  which  I  did  for  nearly  three  years  in 
New  Bedford,  before  I  became  known  to  the  anti- 
slavery  world. 

In  about  four  months  after  I  went  to  New  Bedford, 
there  came  a  young  man  to  me,  and  inquired  if  I  did 
not  wish  to  take  the  "  Liberator."  I  told  him  I  did ; 
but,  just  having  made  my  escape  from  slavery,  I  re- 
marked that  I  was  unable  to  pay  for  it  then.  I,  how- 
ever, finally  became  a  subscriber  to  it.  The  paper 
came,  and  I  read  it  from  week  to  week  with  such 


*  1  am  told  that  colored  persons  can  now  get  employment 
at  calking  in  New  Bedford  —  a  result  of  anti-slavery  effort. 


LIFE  OF  FREDERICK  DOUGLASS.       117 

feelings  as  it  would  be  quite  idle  for  me  to  attempt 
to  describe.  The  paper  became  my  meat  and  my 
drink.  My  soul  was  set  all  on  fire.  Its  sympathy  for 
my  brethren  in  bonds  —  its  scathing  denunciations  of 
slaveholders  —  its  faithful  exposures  of  slavery  — 
and  its  powerful  attacks  upon  the  upholders  of  the  insti- 
tution —  sent  a  thrill  of  joy  through  my  soul,  such  as 
I  had  never  felt  before  ! 

I  had  not  long  been  a  reader  of  the  "  Liberator," 
before  I  got  a  pretty  correct  idea  of  the  principles, 
measures  and  spirit  of  the  anti-slavery  reform.  I  took 
right  hold  of  the  cause.  I  could  do  but  little ;  but 
what  I  could,  I  did  with  a  joyful  heart,  and  never  felt 
happier  than  when  in  an  anti-slavery  meeting.  I  sel- 
dom had  much  to  say  at  the  meetings,  because  what  I 
wanted  to  say  was  said  so  much  better  by  others.  But, 
while  attending  an  anti-slavery  convention  at  Nantucket, 
on  the  llth  of  August,  1841, 1  felt  strongly  moved  to 
speak,  and  was  at  the  same  time  much  urged  to  do  so  by 
Mr.  William  C.  Coffin,  a  gentleman  who  had  heard  me 
speak  in  the  colored  people's  meeting  at  New  Bedford. 
It  was  a  severe  cross,  and  I  took  it  up  reluctantly. 
The  truth  was,  I  felt  myself  a  slave,  and  the  idea  of 
speaking  to  white  people  weighed  me  down.  I  spoke 
but  a  few  moments,  when  I  felt  a  degree  of  freedom, 
and  said  what  I  desired  with  considerable  ease.  From 
that  time  until  now,  I  have  been  engaged  in  pleading 
the  cause  of  my  brethren  —  with  what  success,  and 
with  what  devotion,  I  leave  those  acquainted  with  my 
labors  to  decide. 


APPENDIX. 


I  FIND,  since  reading  over  the  foregoing  Narrative 
that  I  have,  in  several  instances,  spoken  in  such  a  tone 
and  manner,  respecting  religion,  as  may  possibly  lead 
those  unacquainted  with  my  religious  views  to  suppose 
me  an  opponent  of  all  religion.  To  remove  the  liabil- 
ity of  such  misapprehension,  I  deem  it  proper  to  ap- 
pend the  following  brief  explanation.  What  I  have 
said  respecting  and  against  religion,  I  mean  strictly  to 
apply  to  the  slaveholding  religion  of  this  land,  and 
with  no  possible  reference  to  Christianity  proper ;  for, 
between  the  Christianity  of  this  land,  and  the  Chris- 
tianity of  Christ,  I  recognize  the  widest  possible  differ- 
ence —  so  wide,  that  to  receive  the  one  as  good,  pure, 
and  holy,  is  of  necessity  to  reject  the  other  as  bad, 
corrupt,  and  wicked.  To  be  the  friend  of  the  one,  is 
of  necessity  to  be  the  enemy  of  the  other.  I  love  the 
pure,  peaceable,  and  impartial  Christianity  of  Christ : 
I  therefore  hate  the  corrupt,  slaveholding,  women- 
whipping,  cradle-plundering,  partial  and  hypocritical 
Christianity  of  this  land.  Indeed,  I  can  see  no  reason, 
but  the  most  deceitful  one,  for  calling  the  religion 
of  this  land  Christianity.  I  look  upon  it  as  the  cli- 
max of  all  misnomers,  the  boldest  of  all  frauds,  and 
the  grossest  of  all  libels.  Never  was  there  a  clearer 
case  of  "stealing  the  livery  of  the  court  of  heaven 


LIFE    OF    FREDERICK    DOUGLASS.  119 

to  serve  the  devil  in."  I  am  filled  with  unutterable 
loathing  when  I  contemplate  the  religious  pomp  and 
show,  together  with  the  horrible  inconsistencies,  which 
every  where  surround  me.  We  have  men-stea!ers  for 
ministers,  women-whippers  for  missionaries,  and  cradle- 
plunderers  for  church  members.  The  man  who  wields 
the  blood-clotted  cowskin  during  the  week  fills  the 
pulpit  on  Sunday,  and  claims  to  be  a  minister  of  the 
meek  and  lowly  Jesus.  The  man  who  robs  me  of  my 
earnings  at  the  end  of  each  week  meets  me  as  a  class- 
leader  on  Sunday  morning,  to  show  me  the  way  of 
life,  and  the  path  of  salvation.  He  who  sells  my  sister, 
for  purposes  of  prostitution,  stands  forth  as  the  pious 
advocate  of  purity.  He  who  proclaims  it  a  religious 
duty  to  read  the  Bible  denies  me  the  right  of  learning 
to  read  the  name  of  the  God  who  made  me.  He  who 
is  the  religious  advocate  of  marriage  robs  whole  mil- 
lions of  its  sacred  influence,  and  leaves  them  to  the 
ravages  of  wholesale  pollution.  The  warm  defender 
of  the  sacredness  of  the  family  relation  is  the  same 
that  scatters  whole  families,  —  sundering  husbands  and 
wives,  parents  and  children,  sisters  and  brothers, — 
leaving  the  hut  vacant,  and  the  hearth  desolate.  We 
see  the  thief  preaching  against  theft,  and  the  adulterer 
against  adultery.  We  have  men  sold  to  build  churches, 
women  sold  to  support  the  gospel,  and  babes  sold  to 
purchase  Bibles  for  the  poor  heathen  I  all  for  the  glory 
of  God  and  the  good  of  souls  !  The  slave  auctioneer's 
bell  and  the  church-going  bell  chime  in  with  each 
other,  and  the  bitter  cries  of  the  heart-broken  slave  are 
drowned  in  the  religious  shouts  of  his  pious  master. 
Revivals  of  religion  and  revivals  in  the  slave-trade  go 


120  APPENDIX    TO    THE 

hand  in  hand  together.  The  slave  prison  and  the 
church  stand  near  each  other.  The  clanking  of  fetters 
and  the  rattling  of  chains  in  the  prison,  and  the  pious 
psalm  and  solemn  prayer  in  the  church,  may  be  heard 
at  the  same  time.  The  dealers  in  the  bodies  and  souls 
of  men  erect  their  stand  in  the  presence  of  the  pulpit, 
and  they  mutually  help  each  other.  The  dealer  gives 
his  blood-stained  gold  to  support  the  pulpit,  and  the  pul- 
pit, in  return,  covers  his  infernal  business  with  the  garb 
of  Christianity.  Here  we  have  religion  and  robbery 
the  allies  of  each  other  —  devils  dressed  in  angels' 
robes,  and  hell  presenting  the  semblance  of  paradise. 

"  Just  God !  and  these  are  they, 

Who  minister  at  thine  altar,  God  of  right ! 

Men  who  their  hands,  with  prayer  and  blessing,  lay 
On  Israel's  ark  of  light 

"  What !  preach,  and  kidnap  men  ? 

Give  thanks,  and  rob  thy  own  afflicted  poor  ? 
Talk  of  thy  glorious  liberty,  and  then 

Bolt  hard  the  captive's  door  ? 

«  What !  servants  of  thy  own 

Merciful  Son,  who  came  to  seek  and  save 

The  homeless  and  the  outcast,  fettering  down 
The  tasked  and  plundered  slave  ! 

«  Pilate  and  Herod  friends ! 

Chief  priests  and  rulers,  as  of  old,  combine ! 
Just  God  and  holy !  is  that  church  which  lends 

Strength  to  the  spoiler  thine  ?  " 

The  Christianity  of  America  is  a  Christianity,  of 
whose  votaries  it  may  be  as  truly  said,  as  it  was  of  the 


LIFE    OF    FREDERICK    DOUGLASS.  121 

ancient  scribes  and  Pharisees,  "  They  bind  heavy 
burdens,  and  grievous  to  be  borne,  and  lay  them  on 
men's  shoulders,  but  they  themselves  will  not  move 
them  with  one  of  their  fingers.  All  their  works  they  do 

for  to  be  seen  of  men. They  love  the  uppermost 

rooms  at  feasts,  and  the  chief  seats  in  the  synagogues, 

and  to  be  called  of  men,  Rabbi,  Rabbi.  — — 

But  woe  unto  you,  scribes  and  Pharisees,  hypocrites ! 
for  ye  shut  up  the  kingdom  of  heaven  against  men ;  for 
ye  neither  go  in  yourselves,  neither  suffer  ye  them  that 
are  entering  to  go  in.  Ye  devour  widows'  houses,  and 
for  a  pretence  make  long  prayers ;  therefore  ye  shall 
receive  the  greater  damnation.  Ye  compass  sea  and 
land  to  make  one  proselyte,  and  when  he  is  made,  ye 
make  him  twofold  more  the  child  of  hell  than  your- 
selves.  Woe  unto  you,  scribes  and  Pharisees,  hypo- 
crites !  for  ye  pay  tithe  of  mint,  and  anise,  and  cum- 
in, and  have  omitted  the  weightier  matters  of  the 
law,  judgment,  mercy,  and  faith ;  these  ought  ye  to 
have  done,  and  not  to  leave  the  other  undone.  Ye 
blind  guides !  which  strain  at  a  gnat,  and  swallow  a 
camel.  Woe  unto  you,  scribes  and  Pharisees,  hypo- 
crites !  for  ye  make  clean  the  outside  of  the  cup  and 
of  the  platter  ;  but  within,  they  are  full  of  extortion  and 
excess. Woe  unto  you,  scribes  and  Pharisees,  hyp- 
ocrites !  for  ye  are  like  unto  whited  sepulchres,  which 
indeed  appear  beautiful  outward,  but  are  within  full  of 
dead  men's  bones,  and  of  all  uncleanness.  Even  so 
ye  also  outwardly  appear  righteous  unto  men,  but 
within  ye  are  full  of  hypocrisy  and  iniquity." 

Dark  and  terrible  as  is  this  picture,  I  hold  it  to  be 
strictly  true  of  the  overwhelming  mass  of  professed 


122  APPENDIX    TO    THE 

Christians  in  America.  They  strain  at  a  gnat,  and 
swallow  a  camel.  Could  any  thing  be  more  true  of 
our  churches  ?  They  would  be  shocked  at  the  propo- 
sition of  fellowshipping  a  sheep-stealer ;  and  at  the 
same  time  they  hug  to  their  communion  a  wian-stealer, 
and  brand  me  with  being  an  infidel,  if  I  find  fault  with 
them  for  it.  They  attend  with  Pharisaical  strictness  to 
the  oatward  forms  of  religion,  and  at  the  same  time 
neglect  the  weightier  matters  of  the  law,  judgment, 
mercy,  and  faith.  They  are  always  ready  to  sacrifice, 
but  seldom  to  show  mercy.  They  are  they  who  are 
represented  as  professing  to  love  God  whom  they  have 
not  seen,  whilst  they  hate  their  brother  whom  they 
have  seen.  They  love  the  heathen  on  the  other  side 
of  the  globe.  They  can  pray  for  him,  pay  money  to 
have  the  Bible  put  into  his  hand,  and  missionaries  to 
instruct  him  ;  while  they  despise  and  totally  neglect 
the  heathen  at  their  own  doors. 

Such  is,  very  briefly,  my  view  of  the  religion  of  this 
land  ;  and  to  avoid  any  misunderstanding,  growing  out 
of  the  use  of  general  terms,  I  mean,  by  the  religion  of 
this  land,  that  which  is  revealed  in  the  words,  deeds, 
and  actions,  of  those  bodies,  north  and  south,  calling 
themselves  Christian  churches,  and  yet  in  union,  with 
slaveholders.  It  is  against  religion,  as  presented  by 
these  bodies,  that  I  have  felt  it  my  duty  to  testify. 

I  conclude  these  remarks  by  copying  the  following 
portrait  of  the  religion  of  the  south,  (which  is,  by 
communion  and  fellowship,  the  religion  of  the  north,) 
which  I  soberly  affirm  is  "  true  to  the  life,"  and  with- 
out caricature  or  the  slightest  exaggeration.  It  is  said 
to  have  been  drawn,  several  years  before  the  present 


LIFE  OF  FREDERICK  DOUGLASS.        123 

anti-slavery  agitation  began,  by  a  northern  Methodis* 
preacher,  who,  while  residing  at  the  south,  had  an  op- 
portunity to  see  slaveholding  morals,  manners,  and 
piety,  with  his  own  eyes.  "  Shall  I  not  visit  for  these 
things  ?  saith  the  Lord.  Shall  not  my  soul  be  avenged 
on  such  a  nation  as  this  ?  " 

«A  PARODY. 

"  Come,  saints  and  sinners,  hear  me  tell 
How  pious  priests  whip  Jack  and  Nell, 
And  women  buy  and  children  sell, 
And  preach  all  sinners  down  to  hell, 
And  sing  of  heavenly  union. 

"  They'll  bleat  and  baa,  dona  like  goats, 
Gorge  down  black  sheep,  and  strain  at  motes, 
Array  their  backs  in  fine  black  coats, 
Then  seize  their  negroes  by  their  throats 
And  choke,  for  heavenly  union. 

"  They  '11  church  you  if  you  sip  a  dram, 
And  damn  you  if  you  steal  a  lamb  ; 
Yet  rob  old  Tony,  Doll,  and  Sam, 
Of  human  rights,  and  bread  and  ham; 
Kidnapper's  heavenly  union. 

«  They  '11  loudly  talk  of  Christ's  reward, 
And  bind  his  image  with  a  cordv 
And  scold,  and  swing  the  lash  abhorred, 
And  sell  their  brother  in  the  Lord 
To  handcuffed  heavenly  union. 

a  They  '11  read  and  sing  a  sacred  song, 
And  make  a  prayer  both  loud  and  long, 


124  APPENDIX   TO    THE 

And  teach  the  right  and  do  the  wrong, 
Hailing  the  brother,  sister  throng, 
With  words  of  heavenly  union. 

«  We  wonder  how  such  saints  can  sing, 
Or  praise  the  Lord  upon  the  wing, 
Who  roar,  and  scold,  and  whip,  and  sting, 
And  to  their  slaves  and  mammon  cling, 
In  guilty  conscience  union. 

"  They  11  raise  tobacco,  corn,  and  rye, 
And  drive,  and  thieve,  and  cheat,  and  lie, 
And  lay  up  treasures  in  the  sky, 
By  making  switch  and  cowskin  fly, 
In  hope  of  heavenly  union. 

«  They  '11  crack  old  Tony  on  the  skull, 
And  preach  and  roar  like  Bashan  bull, 
Or  braying  ass,  of  mischief  full, 
Then  seize  old  Jacob  by  the  wool, 
And  pull  for  heavenly  union. 

**  A  roaring,  ranting,  sleek  man-thief, 
Who  lived  on  mutton,  veal,  and  beef, 
Yet  never  would  afford  relief 
To  needy,  sable  sons  of  grief, 
Was  big  with  heavenly  union. 

« '  Love  not  the  world,'  the  preacher  said, 
And  winked  his  eye,  and  shook  his  head ; 
He  seized  on  Tom,  and  Dick,  and  Ned, 
Cut  short  their  meat,  and  clothes,  and  bread, 
Yet  still  loved  heavenly  union. 

"  Another  preacher  whining  spoke 
Of  One  whose  heart  for  sinners  broke : 


LIFE  OF  FREDERICK  DOUGLASS.        125 

He  tied  old  Nanny  to  an  oak, 
And  drew  the  blood  at  every  stroke, 
And  prayed  for  heavenly  union. 

"  Two  others  oped  their  iron  jaws, 
And  waved  their  children-stealing  paws ; 
There  sat  their  children  in  gewgaws ; 
By  stinting  negroes'  backs  and  maws, 
They  kept  up  heavenly  union. 

"  All  good  from  Jack  another  takes, 
And  entertains  their  flirts  and  rakes, 
Who  dress  as  sleek  as  glossy  snakes, 
And  cram  their  mouths  with  sweetened  cakes ; 
And  this  goes  down  for  union." 

Sincerely  and  earnestly  hoping  that  this  little  book  may 
do  something  toward  throwing  light  on  the  American 
slave  system,  and  hastening  the  glad  day  of  deliverance 
to  the  millions  of  my  brethren  in  bonds  —  faithfully  re- 
lying upon  the  power  of  truth,  love,  and  justice,  for  suc- 
cess in  my  humble  efforts  —  and  solemnly  pledging  my 
self  anew  to  the  sacred  cause,  —  I  subscribe  myself, 

FREDERICK    DOUGLASS. 
LYNN,  Mass.,  April  28,  1845. 


THE    END. 


U.C.  BERKELEY  LIBRARIES  ' 


SBIIKdEKS 


